Beginnings
by MLaw
Summary: The Germans invade Russia in 1941, bringing devastation to Illya Kuryakin and his family. WARNING: References to Nazi atrocities, and the Holocaust, based on historic facts. Some language Ch. 5/10  # 1 in the Illya series
1. Chapter 1

Author's note*

Some of the scenes depicted in the chapters of this story are based on actual documentary footage* and eye-witness accounts of the crimes and atrocities committed by the Nazis against people of many races, religions and creeds during World War II. This story is written with the utmost respect for those who suffered during this terrible time in history. The name Illya Kuryakin is not owned by me, and is being borrowed for the purpose of this story, the majority of the characters are of my own creation, and some named are actual people who lived through or caused the sufferings in Russia. Special thanks to Avery and WendieZ for their advise and suggestions.

May 1940

"Da! Horosho moya mal'chik!_ Yes! Good my boy!"called Nicholaí to his son" that was an excellent shot!"

"Spacibo, papa." young Illya smiled , happy that his father was pleased with him.

Nicholaí Alexaevich Kuryakin taught both his elder sons, Dimitry and Illya to fire a rifle and they both did so with deadly accuracy. He started training them in the use of a handgun as well and even though the gun was massive in Illya's small hands; he showed suprising ability with such a weapon.

Kolya had others sons who would learn as well, Misha and Sasha, but not just yet, as they were but two years of age, but once they could handle the recoil of the rifle simply balanced on a wall for support; Kolya would teach them as well. But he feared that time would not come soon enough.

Dimitry was sixteen years old, nearly a man and had been on many a hunting trip into Bykivnia forest with his father. He had even killed his first wolf. Illya was only seven and too young to go along with them but not too young to learn. He was as good a shot as his older brother, maybe even better considering the age difference between the two boys.

"Your grandfather the Count would have been very proud of you Illushka. He was an excellant shot in his day...he used go hunting in this very place as a young man with Dukes and Princes you know..." said Nicholaí.

Illya squinted at him, scrunching up his face, thinking sometimes his father made these stories up. There were no Counts, Dukes or Princes in the Soviet Union. That's what he was taught in school. They were the oppressors of the people, and the masses rose up in defiance against their greed and tyranny and rid the country of them. This did not make sense to Illya...his grandfather...he was not oppressive, greedy, nor tyrannous and neither was his papa whom his grandmother said should have been a Count like his own father.

But his teachers bellowed their facts to the contrary at him on a daily basis. Illya was not well liked at school because of his heritage and was often treated like a pariah by his classmates. He was quite accustomed to fistfights at his young age. Illya's quiet and reserved manner was often mistaken for an air of superiority. The other children would gang up on him and the next thing he knew, he was in an altercation not of his own doing. He would often come home cut, bruised and stiff-lipped. Even though the Kuryakin family had not lived the life of nobility since Kolya was first born; they still suffered from the long memory of the "collective" mind. Kolya understood what Illya's sufferings at school were all about, but sadly nothing could be done to change it. He sometimes felt the same prejudices as his children did. Such was Soviet life for those who came from a former status of rank and wealth.

"What does that make me papa?" Illya suddenly asked as they began their walk home.

"I do not understand your question my boy.

"Well I was just thinking..." he spoke very deliberately", if Grandfather was a Count and you would have been a Count...what am I. Am I an oppressor of the people?"

Kolya let out a hearty laugh! "you an oppressor of the people.! I hardly think that! And neither was your grandfather! My father was a kind and generous man and no one ever went hungry when he was Count!"

"Then what am I?" Illya was relentless in seeking an answer from his father that would satisfy him,

"You are the second born son of a nobleman and a gentleman. Your brother Dimitry would have inherited the title after me." Kolya smiled at him " but it is no longer wise nor permissible for such a thing to speak, that part of our heritage has become meaningless. It is best you not discuss it any longer Illuyshka...I know you have had some fights at school about it.

"Papa...I do not start the fights"

"I know Illuyshka, I understand," Nicholaí answered sympathetically.

Illya then asked his father,"How did Grandfather become a Count?"

"His father was granted the title and land by the Tsar as reward for for his service in the last century. And the privilege of that title and would be passed down to each eldest son."

Illya was finally quiet for a moment..."papa, why did they send Grandfather away?" The child spoke of his grandfather as if had known him but in fact the man had been sent to his death in the gulag long before Illya was born.

Nicholaí sighed", that is not an easy answer to give Illuyshka. Let us say that people were jealous of what our family had and felt they had a right to take it away...they sent him somewhere far away to be re-educated to their way of thinking."

"but why..."

"Boy, enough with these questions you ask too many. Sometimes you should be observant.., "said Kolya," there are other ways to learn answers without asking questions."

Illya smiled and slipped his hand into his father's as they walked into the straw colored weeds that were so tall that Illya could have gotten lost in them had he not held on to his father.

They finally cleared the field and Kolya lifted his son over the half-finished stone wall behind the dacha with a "hup." Then tussled the boy's shining blond hair with his hand. Illya had the look of his mother about him; same hair, same bright blue eyes as did Misha and Sasha. But he was small for his age, built more like his mother in this respect too. Nicholaí hoped that Illya's size would not put him at a disadvantage some day. But what he lacked in size he made up for in his tenacity.

Of all Nikolaí's children, Illya was the one that stood out. A clever boy, unafraid to ask questions and always trying to figure things out. He received high marks in his school work, especially mathematics. He was a serious child, who loved to learn and he swore the boy could remember anything he read and recite it back word for word!

Dimitry however was tall like his father and had the auburn hair of the Kuryakin's. He loved the woods and being outdoors, his cleverness was of a different type than Illya's. Dima knew the plants and understood the animals and he could track though the forest just like his gypsy cousins, the Rom. Kolya's only daughter, three year old Katiya favored her father's coloring as well and she was his joy. She a happy child who could make anyone smile even his serious little Illya. Kolya was proud that his wife had given him such a fine, handsome family.

Tanya Ivanova Kuryakina's long blond hair blew in the wind as she finished taking in the last of the laundry; the rain was coming soon and she was relieved that everything was dry enough to take in. She smiled as she saw her husband and son returning from the field and laughed softly as Illya ran to her wrapping his arms around her waist in a hug "mama! mama! papa said I did well today!"

"Ah so the great marksman returns," she laughed " You did well... think this deserves a reward eh? How does a nice slice of warm brown bread and jam sound?"

"Yes please?" the boy grinned.

For the life of her she could not understand why such a skinny little boy could have such a large appetite and not gain any weight. But all that mattered to Tanya was that Illya was a strong, healthy and happy little boy.

"Good then,"she smiled "Take this inside for me Illie? I will be there in a moment." She handed the basket of laundry to him, and he ran with it in through the back door of the dacha.

"So if I give you a big hug what do I get?" whispered Nicholaí as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

She wiggled free of his hold, looking unhappy.

"What is wrong Tanya?"

"Why to you do this with him...take him with the gun every day? Kolya, he's just a child... There is Something you are not telling me?" Tanya asked.

"I do it to help protect him, Tanya. I am frightened for him...for all of us" he answered somberly.

"You think the war will come?"

"Yes I fear it will." he sighed heavily.

Stalin had signed a treaty with Germany to prevent invasion but Kolya had heard rumours that Hitler would still dare to invade the Soviet Union and it was these rumors along with other signs that gave him a sense of urgency in preparing his sons for what might come. Local farmers were shipping out their crops instead of storing for the winter. The factories were stepping up their production. Men were being conscripted into the army. Sure indications that Stalin was preparing for war.

He saw no reason tell his sons anything or voice his concerns to them. " Let their young minds be trouble free for now." he thought to himself.

1941

The day that Nicholaí Kuryakin feared had finally arrived. Hitler had invaded the Soviet Union. Stalin had been preparing to strike against Germany he delayed and now the greatest army in the world barreled through Russia. By August Minsk, Smolensk and Novogorod had fallen. On 15 September a great seige against Leningrad began and but a few days later Kyiv was occupied.

The day that Minsk fell to the Germans, Nicholaí and Dimitry left to join the partisans, partnered with the Rom hidden deep in the forest. The Rom were family. Vanya their leader was Kolya's uncle and his mother's younger brother. The Kuryakin's trusted the gypsies where as other people did not. But they knew the woods and the surrounding areas better than anyone and the partisans being few in number relied upon them for guidance through the darkest parts of Bykivnia. The partisans could not engage the Germans directly, so theirs was a war of sabotage. They would blow up bridges, derail trains, destroy farms and dairies that fed the Germans. Nicholaí and Dima would be gone from the family for weeks at a time, and as the Germans began to increase their movement the weeks turned into months.

The Kuryakins lived out in the country west of the city. At one time they ranked as was one of the great families of Kyiv living in a spacious house, having wealth and property. The family was known for being generous to those in need. But the "Great Revolution" had reduced the Kuryakins to near poverty, and the former Countess, her son and his family now lived year round in the family's small dacha.

With her husband and eldest son gone, Tanya Kuryakina did her best to care for and feed her four other children with the help of her husband's mother Madame Marina Vladimirevna Kuryakina. She, the children's babushka was a woman of the old ways, proud of her husband's nobility and remembered when the name Kuryakin was respected. She chose to honor her gypsy heritage, by always calling her son Niko in the gypsy fashion, instead of Kolya.

Tanya Kuryakina was a small, delicate beauty and she worked hard to protect and care for her brood. She toiled chopping wood, did all the household chores what ever needed doing now that Kolya and Dima were gone. She began schooling Illya when he could not longer safe to attend school and took care of the three other youngsters as well.

Food was already scarce as the Russian people had been forced to give up so much to help finance the preparations for war with Germany. But when the Germans launched their offensive, the Soviet Army faltered. They had lived under the brutal regime of Stalin and when it came time to defend it; they did not. They had no loyalty to a man that terrorized his people. Instead soldiers surrendered or ran, sometimes even without a fight. Leaving the people defenseless and at the mercy of the German control over the cities left everyone short in supplies and food, as nothing could get in or out with out the Nazis knowing about it.

It was on 19 September that the Nazi's occupied Kyiv. It was also Illya's ninth birthday. But there was no celebration as the news of the occupation came to the Kuryakins. Days later they heard that the grand Soviet Army that was supposed to defend Kyiv had surrendered. The Germans set a trap and but 150,000 out of 600,000 were able to fight their way out of it. Kruschev had no choice but to surrender Kyiv. He was accused of cowardice, but Stalin ignored him and received nothing but a tongue-lashing from Vaznesensky, Stalin's deputy. It was the people of Kyiv who suffered.

Another ten days later the Nazis began their brutal extermination of the Jews of Kyiv...gunning down over 33,000 men, women and children at a ravine on the northwest outskirts of the city. A place called Baba Yar. Not long after that a concentration camp was set up nearby the ravine, called "Syrets", named after the area it was located in. But these were things that were only rumoured in the countryside. Families were careful with whom they spoke, as well as what they spoke about. Feeling that if the words weren't said, then it couldn't be true. These terrible things could not be true...

Tanya did not want to believe those stories. They were beyond comprehension. She listened instead for the ones that offered hope.

Such story came from a neighbor a few miles down the road. He had heard that a market had sprung up at the Yevbaz Bazaar near the city. There was fresh produce and grain being sold! These were things they needed to lay in as supplies for the harsh winter to come. October was nearing and something had to be done before it was too late.

It was decided that Madame Kuryakina would care for Katiya while Illya and his mother would take the twins with them to the city to the Bazaar. It would be too difficult for their grandmother to handle all three...and Illya had to go with his mother.

She knew it was a risky trip, but there was no choice. Her husband and eldest son had not been home in months, and she wasn't even sure if they were still alive. She had to take the chance, otherwise the rest of her family could starve.

Tanya would put the boys in a small pram, one they could use to also carry the supplies in for the return trip. She and Illya would have to carry Sasha and Misha on the way back.

She gathered all the rubles they had, a pair of silver candlesticks, and the few pieces of jewelry she and Niko's mother owned as she knew the supplies would be expensive to buy. The candlesticks were hidden under the blankets in the carriage, but Tanya made Illya bury the money and the jewels deep in his pockets.

And so Tanya Kuryakina and her three sons started out on their journey, meeting and joining many others along the road with the same goal. It was a long trip and Illya made it without complaint. He helped to push the carriage and keep his brothers amused, soothed them when they cried. And helped his mother feed them when they stopped along the roadside. There was little left but porridge now to feed them. Once done eating, they began to walk again.

It was then that the Germans suddenly appeared on Pobeda Street just outside the city, pulling up in their trucks; they grabbed people from the terrified crowds at random ordering them onto the transports at gunpoint.

Tanya grabbed her boys from the carriage holding one in each arm, ordering little Illya to get behind her as she heard the Nazis voices over the frightened cries of the people around her.

Suddenly a soldier reached into the crowd grabbing Sasha and pulling him from his mother's arm. She screamed as the soldier began tossing the child up into the air...catching him then tossing him again and again until Sasha began to cry.*

"Please no..." Tanya begged", you're frightening him!"Sobbing in fear.

Another soldier grabbed her, pushing she and Misha to the ground. Illya took a step forward to help her but she flashed him a look, stopping him in his tracks..."run," he saw his mother mouth the word, then heard her scream as Sasha was tossed again into the air. The soldier drew his side-arm shooting the child as he dropped. Then turned shooting the mother. Tanya fell dead to the ground and Misha tumbled from her arms screaming loudly. The soldier grabbed him by the leg, tossed him into the air, killing Misha just as he had Sasha.

It had all happened so fast and momentarily stunned in horror Illya stood frozen. He turned and ran as his mother had told him to do, disappearing into the mass of people huddling in terror as more of the soldiers began to shoot into the crowd. Illya could not understand why they did not run? He slipped out of sight easily since he was so small and made his way homeward in the darkness back to the dacha.

It took him hours as he hid now along the way from more of the soldiers, transports and tanks that roared past him on the road. It was near dawn when Illya burst wild-eyed through the door of the dacha, staggering toward his grandmother unable to speak, he could only cry. She held him in her arms until he finally calmed. Whimpering; he struggled to tell her what had happened to his mother and brothers. Marina Kuryakina listened in horror and wept while she rocked her frightened grandson in her arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Marina held Illya in her arms humming to him softly, stroking his head until the child finally drifted off to sleep. He was a slender boy and small, so she managed to lift him easily and carry him to her goose-down bed.

"Better he should wake with me than alone," she thought, as she lay him on the bed, then removing only his shoes, socks and coat; she slipped him under the thick comforter still dressed in his clothing. The child never woke for a second as he must have been exhausted from his terrible ordeal.

She changed to her shift, then sat at her small dressing table, brushing her long silver-grey hair in the mirror by the light of a single candle. She did this nightly...it was part of her routine. And even though her heart pained her now at the death of Tanya and the twins she carried on, not changing her habits as she knew life must continue.

Looking in the faded mirror, Marina hardening herself, fighting back the tears. She had to be strong now...for the children. She knew not if her son lived or her eldest grandson; she hoped they were somewhere safe in the forest. In the meantime she was all that Illya and Katiya had now, and they were all she had as well.

Marina glanced at her little Illushka asleep in her bed, knowing sadly that much would fall upon his young shoulders. Such was the harshness of their life...things had not been easy since the downfall of the Kuryakin family. But they went on with the task of living none the less, they were survivors and would always be. They were "Kuryakin"... proud, brave and her IIluyshka laying there so innocently might be the only one left to carry on the family name.

She placed her hairbrush back on the table and began pleating her hair in to a long braid, then when finished she placed her hand up behind the candle flame and blew out with a single puff. She slipped quietly under the covers next to her grandson."

Tomorrow she would give him many chores to do...it would keep his mind occupied. This one, of all her grandchildren was different. He was a thinker; his mind going at all the time. She could not stop him from dwelling on his mother and brothers and the terror that he felt. But keeping him busy would distract him and that was what he needed now; not coddling or babying...they had cried their tears already. What was done, was done and all the tears in the world could not change the will of God.

Marina blessed herself, clasping her hands together and whispering her prayers in the dark before she pulled the covers up, allowing herself to sleep

.

The next morning she awoke alone in her bed, feeling a sense of panic, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and went in search of her grandson. There was no sign of him anywhere in the dacha, but then she heard a noise from outside, in the back.

She opened the door at the rear of the house slowly, seeing Illya out there in the yard, placing pieces of wood atop the tree trunk they used for the wood chopping. He struggled to hold the large axe in his arms as he swung it back and up over his head, bringing it squarely down on a piece of fire wood; the axe-head now embedded into it. He swung it again and again until he finally split the piece of wood in half, with a look of sheer anger and determination on his pale face.

She said nothing, and closed the door letting him be to take out his rage on the kindling; going now to the kitchen to prepare their morning kashi. She saw to Katiya, washed and changed her and when the porridge was ready, he called Illya into eat his breakfast.

She did not have to call him twice and he came inside quickly and he sat himself down lifting up a spoonful of porridge to his mouth.

"Nyet, nyet..." she chided him." wash your hands first please?"

Illya rose without a word going to the kitchen counter he poured cold water from the pitcher into the ceramic wash basin and quickly rinsed the dirt from his face and hands. Then grabbed a towel and drying himself, he returned to his seat at the table again spooning his breakfast in large mouthfuls not saying a word.

"Eat slowly Illya, you must remember your table manners...and don't forget to use your napkin. Wipe your chin please?" she told him." you mustn't eat your food like a little wolf cub."

"Yes baba," he answered quietly.

Illya picked up the threadbare napkin from the table wiped his mouth then carefully placed it across his lap, looking her in the eye.

"That's much better," she smiled

At that moment Katiya suddenly decided to hurl a spoonful of kashi at her brother, hitting him sqarely in the face. She let out a sqeal of laughter, and for a split second Illya went red in the face, then just as quickly smiled and laughed along with her. He scooped the porridge from his face with his hand and licked off, not wanting to waste his sister's gift, then wiped his face again with the napkin.

Normally Madame Kuryakina would have been livid at such behavior, but given the circumstances, she was pleased that Illya was able to laugh, but at the same time she wondered if that was a good thing. What he had seen happen less than a day ago would have been a traumatic thing for anyone, must less a child. Was he accepting it this soon, or was he denying it? She would talk to him about it after evening prayers.

"Illuyshka," she said "today, we must clean out the chicken coops and working on the fencing. We must protect them from wolves...they will be coming soon."

"Yes baba," he again answered.

Illya helped her clean up after finishing their meal, then returned outside to the back yard. He went right to work on the task his baba had given him.

The five chickens and single rooster scattered to the back of the coop as soon as he walked in, shutting the gate behind him. He took note that the hinges and latch were loose, then as he began to sweep about with a handmade whisk fashioned from straw, he examined the fencing to see what needed repair.

Once the old straw mixed with dirt and droppings were swept into a neat pile, he opened the gate to brush it all out, that was when one of the chickens came fluttering out of the coop and through the open gate.

"Nyet! Vernut'sya vy glupaya ptitsa! Come back you stupid bird!" he yelled as he closed the gate behind him and gave chase. He ran after in for several minutes, until Katiya appeared in the yard joining the pursuit, they whole thing sending her in to joyous laughter.

This made Illya smile and laugh as well as Katiya was the only one who could make him do that. He loved his little sister all the more for it, knowing he was always too serious as he was so reminded by his mother...

Illya suddenly remembered..."mama" he whispered and stopped where he stood. He chastised himself for letting thoughts of she and his brothers slip his mind if even for a few moments.

Katiya continued to chase after the bird, finally cornering it near the back of the house and grabbing hold of it. She scooped up the chicken that was too big for her up into her arms triumphantly, calling out to her brother ' look Illie I catch the kuritsa! I catch it!"

Illya rushed over taking it from her before it could escape her grasp then shoved it back into the coop.

Then he bent down, wrapping his arms around Katiya "Horosho sdelali malen'kuyu sestru_well done little sister!" He held her tightly, then whispered to her ", YA lyublu tebya Katiya_I love you Katiya."

Katiya gave him a big kiss on the cheek as only a baby sister could!

"YA tozhe teba lyublu brata_ I love you brother," she answered then pushed herself away, running off into the yard. "Catch me Illie!"she called trying to get him to play.

"Katiya! We will play later. I have work to do now. Yes?"

Katiya stuck out her tongue then stomped back into the dacha pouting at being rejected for play time.

Several hours later Illya had repaired the gate hinges, the lock, re-enforced the posts, secured the wire, filled the coop with fresh straw, and gathered the few eggs the chickens had laid. He could hear the sounds of explosions in the distance, too far to cause worry, but close enough to affect the laying of eggs as the noise was frightening the hens.

The last thing he decided to add was a row of large stones from a pile in the yard that remained unused for so long that they covered in weeds. His father had been gathering them to finish the back wall but never seemed to find the time for it. One by one he laid the stones down along base of the wire, some of them quite heavy and he struggled to hoist them up andover to the coop. This would make it more difficult for any creatures to dig beneath the fencing.

Finally Illya dusted off his hands, satisfied with his work and then he realized he was quite hungry.

He went into the kitchen and washed up again, smelling the wonderful borscht cooking on the wood stove, his favorite! His baba was a good cook and could turn the most meager ingredients into a feast fit for the old Tsar himself. There was a loaf of fresh baked brown bread cooling on the kitchen counter.

Marina served the simple meal to the children giving them larger portions than for herself. She would go without before they would. Illya saw this, but said nothing to her.

The day went quickly and Marina had kept the boy busy, and now it was finally time for evening prayers. She put Katiya to bed early this night instead as she wished to speak to Illya of his mother and the twins; having decided to simply not tell Katiya the truth.

"Better to let her think they were still away on a long trip as she had been told."

Marina and Illya went into the living room and stood before the icons on the wall and there they blessed themselves. Religion was frowned upon in the Soviet Union, and those who still believed, practiced their faith in secret.

She began the evening prayers," O Gospod Bog nash_Oh Lord our God, however I have sinned this day in word,deed or thought, forgive me, for Thou art gracious and lovest mankind. Grant me peaceful and undisturbed sleep. Send me thy guardian angel to shield and protect me from every evil; for Thou art the guardian of our souls and bodies and unto Thee we ascribe glory, to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages. Amin' "

She finished the prayer even though she knew that Illya was not praying aloud along with her.

"Why did you did you not say your prayers Illuyshka?" she asked him.

Illya looked back at her with a coldness in his eye that she had not seen before. "Why should I...? Where was God when mama, Sasha and Misha died? Where were their guardian angels!" He was shouting now.

"I cannot answer that my child. Only God knows why he allows such things." she answered in a soothing tone, trying to calm him "we must continue to believe and have faith..."

He cut her off angrily " I no longer believe baba...I do not have faith in a God who let my innocent mother and brothers die in such a way!"

Marina raised her voice to him" Nyet! Nyet! Illuyshka! You must not say such a thing!" She couldn't believe these words coming from such a young child.

"I do not care!" he shouted at her."no matter what you say to me!"

Marina was angry now at his tone of voice. "Do not speak to me like that child! Now go to your bed!" she ordered him.

Illya stormed from the living room to his lonely bedroom that he no longer shared with any of his brothers.

A short while later, Marina crept in to check on the boy, finding him fast asleep in his bed. He must have been tossing in his sleep as the covers had been kicked off, so she pulled the quilt up, tucking him in.

She took a step back and blessing herself said a short prayer.

"V ruki Tvoi, Gospodi lisuse Hriste, Boshe moy YA vysoko otesnivayu yego duh. Blagoslovi yego, spasti yego, i daruet yemu kogdapnibhud prochnogo zhizni, Amin' "

"Into thy hands, O Lord Jesus Christ, my God I commend his spirit. Bless him and grant unto him everlasting life. Amen"

If Illya would no longer pray for himself, then she would pray for him. He may have given up God, but Marina knew that God had surely not done the same to her grandson.


	3. Chapter 3

A month had passed since the death of Tanya Kuryakina and her sons, yet Marina and her remaining grandchildren were managing. That would change in the near future as the food pantry was becoming sparse. She had already begun rationing their portions and their meals had been reduced to only breakfast and supper, with the portions being rationed carefully.

Illya never complained but Katiya was becoming more fussy as she was unaccustomed to being hungry and could not understand why she could not have more to eat. The family had never gone hungry before and Marina caught Illya sneaking some of his food from his own bowl to his sister, to ease her hunger pangs.

There was at the most, a few weeks worth of flour, grain, potatoes and turnips left. Once that was gone there would be nothing left to do but slaughter the rest of the chickens, as the milk cow had been long gone, and some of the salted beef and gone with Nicholaí to help feed the partisans.

They were down now to the rooster and three hens now and those had ceased laying eggs. The noise from the Nazis shellingof Kyiv had seen to that and the chickens were now just eating up precious grain. After the chickens were gone, Marina had no idea what she would do for food. She thought about visiting the neighbors, but was sure that they were just as much in need as was she and her family.

The first signs of winter came early as it had gotten colder; and that morning they awoke seeing their breath in the air. Outside a light blanket of snow had fallen during the night and covered the ground. Marina lit a fire in the main fireplace then the stove to warm the kitchen. She put a pot of chicken and potato soup she had made the day before on top of it to heat as that along with some brown bread would be both breakfast and supper for the three of them.

Illya shivered as he quickly dressed himself warmly in a heavy sweater, pants and boots. The went into his parents room where Katiya slept, helping her to dress as well. There would be no bathing today as it was too cold inside the dacha.

He greeted his grandmother as he and his sister walked into the coziness of the kitchen and smelled the soup warming on the stove.

"Good morning," she said handing him a small burlap bag of grain."Illuyska, go check on the chickens and feed them...but not too much, _pozhaluísta_?

A few minutes later he came running back inside, out of breath and looking very concerned.

"Some one is coming Baba!" He called, running to the closet down the hall to fetch the rifle his father had left for them. He hurried back into the kitchen with it, pulling back the bolt and loading a round into the chamber with a practiced hand. Illya stood with his grandmother as they heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking up the stairs leading to the back door.

Illya steadied himself taking a deep breath, raising the rifle and taking careful aim, ready to fire instantly.

The door creaked open slowly...

"Papa!" Illya cried out, putting the gun down on the table and running into the open arms of his father.

Nicholaí lifted Illya into his arms hugging him tightly."I missed you boy," he whispered, as he held him close." what's this...tears?"

Illya had begun to cry and his father put him down on the floor, taking hold of his son's shoulders. "Illuyshenka! It is alright, I am home now! Do not cry," he laughed just a little thinking it would help.

"Niko..." Marina whispered, shaking her head' her face went pale as she faced her son. She reached out touching her palm to his chest.

"Mama...what is wrong?" Niko asked. "What has happened?"

"Nicholaí, it is Tanya ...and the twins." Marina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand stifling her grief.

Niko began to tremble."Tanya? She is..."

Marina nodded, finishing the sentence for him "Gone Niko, they are gone. It was the Germans."

Niko dropped into one of the chairs at the table, leaning his head into his hands and wept, "When?"

"Just over a month ago. She and Illya took the boys to go to the Yevbaz Bazaar. It was said there was food...the Germans came and were loading people into transports...one of them took Sasha," her voice shook as she told her son the rest.

Niko slammed his fist on the table ",_ Bozhe moy! pochemu, pochemu_why God! Why?Why? W_hy would she have done something so foolish?

"Niko we did not know if you were dead or alive! We needed the supplies. The food we have left now will not last us another month, and that is with the three of us. If there were six of us, it would have been gone a month ago. There was no choice!" Marina defended their actions vehemently.

"How were we to know these mad German would do such a thing to women and children?"

"Mama, the stories that we heard about them executing the Jews were true! They are killing everyone now and dumping the bodies in the ravine. Thousands of them! They are animals! No one is safe from their insanity! They are sweeping across the Soviet Union like a plague!...I do not care what you thought, she never should have gone. It was dangerous and stupid!"

Illya stood in the corner of the kitchen watching and listening to his father and baba argue. He began shake as his anger rose and suddenly he charged at his father's back; his arms flailing, striking Nicholaí with his small fists.

"Why did you have to go? If you were here, mama would be alive, my brothers would be alive!" he screamed hysterically.

Niko grabbed Illya by the arms holding him in place"_ Stoi! Stoi!_Stop_! It is no one's fault boy. Stop it now!"

Illya's eyes suddenly rolled back and he went limp in his father's arms, fainting. Niko scooped him up into his strong arms, carrying his son up to his bed. "Bring some water and a cloth," he ordered his mother.

Illya woke up once his father had begun placing the cold cloth on his forehead." He realized what he had done and said was wrong. He looked up at his father; his blue eyes filled with sadness.

"_Izvinite papa,"_ sorry papa_," he whispered."It was not your fault, I did not mean it..."

Nicholaí leaned forward, kissing is son on the forehead and stroked his face gently."No, Illuyska. You have every right to be angry with me. I have made mistakes in my life...this was one of them. I am sorry."

He decided it best Illya stay where he was and helped him to get undressed and put him to bed. There was talking to be done and best he, and his sister were not there to hear it. Tomorrow there would be time enough for idle talk with his youngones. "Sleep now _moy syn_my son_...sleep." Nicholaí whispered softly, stroking Illya's hair until the boy drifted to sleep.

Nicholaí walked into the next room to look upon the sleeping form of his Katiya. He kissed her too on the forehead, and the little one stirred; rolling over on her side. He tucked the covers about her, then went downstairs to the kitchen.

Marina had placed a bottle of vodka on the table along with two glasses and a bit of brown bread. So then mother and son sat together in silence drinking to their lost loved-ones."

"I hope she will forgive me" Niko whispered" for now that Tanya is in heaven, she surely knows my transgressions."

Marina did not ask what that meant, instead she put the question to her son that she was afraid to ask " Niko...where is Dimitry?"

"He is alive and well Mama, and will be here tomorrow. He comes with supplies for you. That is what we have been doing for the past week, gathering supplies for the families that the partisans had to leave behind. Once the winter arrives it will be nearly impossible to get back to them. It was decided that Dimitry and I would share the task...and oh yes, Vanya sends his love to you mama."he smiled at his mother, all the anger passed.

Marina blessed herself at the news about Dimitry and thanked God. Then asked, "_Moy brat_my Rom brother_ Vanya is well?"

"Yes Mama and as stubborn as ever."

"And Anastasiya?"she asked.

"His daughter is well also mama" Niko smiled. She is very much like Illya, very bright and resourceful. They would have been a good match.

It was a gypsy custom to betroth children at a young age and even though they were cousins...second cousins, to be precise, the match was considered. Cousin marrying cousin was not unheard of in Russia, but Vanya decided against it; seeing Illya and his Tasiya were close like brother and sister. He knew there would never be that kind of love between them, the love of husband and wife.

"So when must you return to the forests Niko?" She then aske,d hoping that he would not.

"In a few days. We will need to ready the dacha for the winter and stockpile the firewood. The shutters must go up on the windows, the roof needs repair. The stoves and chimneys must be cleaned. There is much to do."

They drank another glass of vodka, and Marina asked her son to join her for evening prayers. Together they prayed for Tanya, Sasha, Misha and for God's help to see them through the terrible times to come.

Dimitry arrived just before dawn with small sacks of grain, potatoes, some turnips, cabbages. flour and sugar. He had managed to convince one of the local farmers to part with a pail of milk and some cheese. These supplies, if portioned carefully, would last the family through the winter.

Marina hugged her eldest grandson tightly, then said ",There is terrible news that I must give you my child..." Upon hearing of his mother and the twin murder, Dimitry was devastated and stormed from the dacha hiding his tears.

His father tried to stop him but Marina said", No...let him be. He must deal with it in his own way as Illya did."

Illya had been listening in and slipped outside to the back to join his brother. Wearing only his sweater; he crossed his arms in front of his chest for warmth then climbed up on the stone wall where Dimitry was, sitting down beside him.

Without saying a word Dimitry reached his arm around his brother, holding him close.

"Are you alright little brother?" he whispered.

Illya just shrugged, saying nothing.

No other words were spoken as the two brothers shared their sorrow, staring out into the field; watching as a cold wind made the weeds sway to and fro. Just sitting together was comfort to them. And they listened in silence as a wolf howled somewhere off in the distance, a moment later a second answered the call. The sound filling the boys with a sense of loneliness.

Nicholaí and Dimitry spent the next three days repairing the roof, replacing rotten timber and shingles. Then finally the last task, putting up the shutters to cover the window and protect the glass from the fierce winds of the winter storms that would arrive in December. Illya helped them as much as he could, carrying wood and nails, handing this father and brother what they needed. Niko had great compliments for the work Illya had done on the coop but it would be for naught as the last of the chickens would soon be slaughtered.

The next day they would leave to return to the forest and this was when Nicholaí gave his mother the news...Illya would be going with them, back to Bykivnia to join the partisans.

"No please Niko?" Marina begged. "He is too young! He is only a baby!"

"I have made my decision Mama. He goes. We have need of little hands to help make the bombs."

"Are there no other children there? What happened to them? You are lying to me...what has happened to Anastasiya?'She demanded

"Anastasiya is fine Mama but there is only one other child left. The rest along with their parents were taken by the Nazis and executed in the forest. We have had to move our camp very deep into Bykivnia now to avoid them. They are hunting down the gypsies just as they have been the Jews."

"And you wish to bring him into THAT?...NO! I forbid it!" She raised her voice to her son."It is bad enough you took Dimitry! Do you wish to put all the Kuryakins into harms way?

Niko, now angry, raised his voice "Do not interfere woman!" He bellowed at her,"We are at war, we are fighting for our survival and we must do, what we must do!"

"And what will it do except get a little boy killed Niko! You cannot pit a child against German soldiers! she insisted.

Illya stepped into the middle of the argument, standing between them defiantly.

" I am not a baby!" He yelled, "Then lowered his voice."I can help and I am ready to fight! You already said I am a good shot with a rifle Papa!" Illya wanted so badly at that moment to have the chance to avenge the murder of his mother and brothers.

"See!" said Niko,"Even the boy knows what needs to be done!."And with that the decision was made; Illya would go.

Illya Nichovich Kuryakin felt very pleased with himself, but suddenly he realized he would be leaving his babushka and Katiya on their own. "Papa, what about them?"He asked.

"Your grandmother can shoot a rife, Illuyshka. She will be armed and will be safe enough here with your sister in the dacha. There is enough food to last through the winter. Once the snows come, no one will be able to get near the dacha, so do not worry yourself." Niko reassured him.

That night Marina prepared a supper for her family. Another chicken was sacrificed and she made dumplings stuffed with chicken and potato with gray. Cabbage borscht, potatoes with milk and cheese and freshly baked bread. It was a simple but delicious meal, though the portions were small.

Niko spent the evening in front of the fireplace playing his concertina, with the remnants of his family gathered about him. The crackling fire warmed the air and helped lull them into a relaxed mood, bringing back memories of happier times and driving away the knowledge for just a brief moment that the family would part the morning. Illya and Katiya drifted to sleep, feeling warm and protected in their grandmother's loving arms.

The next morning Marina prepared a hearty breakfast for them all, their last meal together as a family; potato pancakes, cheese, kashi sweetened with sugar, bread and tea. It was quiet at the table as they had their meal. None of them really wanted to part, so they ate very slowly. Even Katiya was silent.

Once the table had been cleared and the dishes done, Marina prepared her grandson for his journey into the forest with his father and dressed Illya warmly in layers; a heavy turtleneck sweater over several shirts, two pairs of pants, thick wool socks and well-oiled boots. She helped him put his black wool coat on, wrapped a thick scarf around his neck, then finally placed his black wool cap on his head. She stuffed his pack with extra clothing and socks and a pair of mittens, still fretting he would be warm enough.

"Please Baba," I will be all right.," Illya insisted as his grandmother fussed over him.

Nicholaí wrapped and tied a bed roll around him with a length of rope, and handed him a small caliber rifle. A box of ammunition was stuffed into the pack along with the clothes.

The family stood together in silence before the final goodbyes were made. Marina kissed each of them on their cheeks and making the sign of the cross; she said a prayer to St. Michael the Archangel, patron saint of Kyiv.

_"O Sankt Boga, Arhangel Mihail, molis' za menya moy dom i moya sem'ya. Amin_oh Saint of God, Michael the Archangel, pray to God for me, for my home and my family. Amen."_

All but Illya blessed themselves and repeated the " Amin' " after her.

Katiya was very quiet and somber as Illya kissed her good-bye. "Don't worry Katiya. I will be all right. I am with Papa and Dima" he said looking into her eyes. "You must be very brave and help Baba, while I am gone. Can you do that?" He asked, smiling at her. But Katiya would not look at him, and she suddenly hid behind her grandmother's skirts."

"Do not worry Illuysha," Marina whispered adjusting his scarf. "She still loves you. She will be of great help to me," Marina then said, wrapping her arm around Katiya.

Marina and her grand daughter stood at the back door of the dacha watching as Nicholaí, Dimitry and Illya as they climbed over the wall and headed out toward the field.

.

"_Ya tebya lyublu Illya!_" Katiya to him. Illya called back, looking to his sister," _Ya tebya lyublu Katiya_I love you Katiya!_"

He disappeared into the field after his brother and father.


	4. Chapter 4

The trek to the deepest parts of the Bykivnia took four days moving at a fast pace. Illya struggled to keep up, but uttered not one word of complaint to his father or brother. They kept a watchful eye on him, helping him when he stumbled, resting when they knew he was tired; they did however, not stop pushing him for the entire journey.

When they finally reached the new encampment, it was hidden from view, deep within a gully and surrounded by dense, massive trees. Niko and his sons stood waiting and watching outside the perimeter, knowing there were weapons trained on them the moment they had approached the outskirts of the camp.

"Who are you!" A voice called out to them in the Romany language. This was a new voice, unfamiliar to Niko, coming from one who must have joined the group in his absence.

"_Mora!"_ friend!_" Niko replied in their language."It is I Niko Kuryakin and with me are my two sons," he announced.

"_Romale tail shavale akarel tume o Pulika!_ By your leave gypsy men and youths, this is Pulika calling you!_" He called, giving the proper way to address a Rom.

Three armed men, all strangers to Niko stepped from behind the trees, lowering their rifles.

"I am Nicholaí Kuryakin and nephew to Vanya, your_ Vaida_ chieftan,_"he told them.

Satisfied, they bid him and the boys to follow. "Come," as they had heard the name spoken in camp. They escorted the three down into the gully and into the main encampment.

There were signs of busy preparation for the winter in progress, as men were digging into the still soft forest floor. They would build dug-outs over these pits, and cover the rough-hewn timber walls and roofs with earth and pine branches for insulation. Inside the floors would be covered with pine needles. At the moment the partisans were using small canvas tents to protect themselves from the elements. These could be taken down quickly if camp had to be abandoned as was needed in the past, but now with winter approaching, the tents would offer them little protection. The new camp was now established deeper in the forest than ever before and no one ventured this far into Bykivnia without knowing his way. It was virtually impossible to track someone here. One had to know of it, and could not find it by accident. It was chosen as winter camp for that very reason.

As they walked through the camp familiar faces nodded to Niko and Dimitry in acknowledgement, but stared at the small blond boy that followed behind them.

A stocky, dark man sat hunched before a campfire in the clearing, cleaning a rifle when the men called to him." Ho! Ivan Ursari, these men say they know you."

Vanya looked up, revealing a smile that was missing a front tooth.

"Ah nephews it is good that you have returned to us safely. He stood, greeting Niko in a great bear hug, as was appropriate as his last name, Ursari meant bear.

_"Devlesa avilan_ It is God who brought you." _He said to his nephew.

"Niko responded in kind, speaking in Romany, " _Devlesa arak lam tume_ it is with God that we find you_...your sister sends her greetings and love.

Vanya hugged and greeted Dimitry, then spotting Illya behind him, called to the boy, "And who is this strong _ch'avala_lad,_ can it be Illya?

Illya smiled stepping forward into a bear hug from his beloved Uncle Vanya.

"Let me look at you boy..."Vanya smiled. "You have grown, and into a handsome one at that! Be careful, Illya, the_ Kesali_forest spirits_ might steal you away for themselves!" His comment made Illya blush.

One of the things that Illya loved so about his Uncle were the stories he told, old stories about the forest creatures, the mysterious and often fantastic tales and legends that he would captivate young and old alike while sitting around the campfire, mesmerizing them with his voice like Rasputin, but in a good way.

"Come there is food, a good rabbit and potato stew! said Vanya. "My Anastasiya has become quite the cook, she has found many herbs in the forest to give our meals a wonderful flavor... just like Marina does. She has even managed to bake us some flat bread by digging a shallow hole and baking on a stone! She covers it with pine branches to keep the heat in and it gives the bread a wonderful flavor!

Illya's ears perked up at the mention if his cousin's name and it was not lost on Vanya. He smiled. "She is that way down by the stream," he pointed. Go fetch her and we will eat together."

Illya left his pack and his rifle as he hurried off to find his cousin. He found her kneeling at the edge of the steam washing out some wooden bowels when he whistled to her. It was their signal to each other.

She jumped up with a wide grin, turning in the direction of his call and ran to him.

The two children hugged each other; smiling and laughing happily.

"Illuysha! I have missed you so much!" She said as she laughed. She had the same coloring as he, blond and blue-eyed but was taller and was two years older. Her clothing was that of a boy's and her long hair was pulled up in a ponytail.

"And I you missed you Tasiya," he said quietly. "It has been lonely without you."

The two young cousins sat together on a large fallen tree beside the river saying nothing for a few minutes, just holding hands, as they leaned together.

"Illuysha, you seem so sad," she finally asked." What troubles you?"

Illya told her about the Germans and what had happened to his mother and brothers. And so Anastasiya Ursari put her arms around her cousin, holding him tightly for comfort, but he did not cry.

"I am so sorry Illuysha," she whispered, and cried for him.

Illya pulled free of her, "I forgot, Tasiya, Vanya wants us to come back to eat with him, papa and Dima.

"They are here as well?" She smiled...Marina and Katiya?

"They remained at the dacha," he answered somberly.

The two children, looking very much like brother and sister, walked hand in hand returning to the camp.

"Ah, so the reunion went well I see," smiled Vanya, as he scooped some stew into bowls and handed them to the children. The cousins smiled at each other, then dug into their food eagerly, not saying a word.

"So how goes the cause these two weeks?" Niko asked as he spooned some hot stew into his mouth.

"It goes well" said Vanya, "We have been working at disrupting the railway lines again. They are bringing them in by the trainload to Sryets, from everywhere now, Romania, Hungary, Belorussia..not just Jews, gypsies, the ill and in-firmed, homosexuals...the poor bastards; one can only hope they do not know what lies in store for them. What is that saying...ignorance is bliss?" At least we can delay the inevitable for them for a bit, enh, and let them have a little more of the bliss."

"How aften do the trains come,"Dimitry asked.

"They are killing Ukrainians too" Illya interjected, remembering how the soldiers had shot into the crowd after killing his mother and brothers."They killed women and children...no one ran. They just stood there and let themselves be shot." he said it out of context to the conversation." I do not understand that."

Vanya knew the boy was thinking out loud; remembering his terrible experience. Niko had told him after Illya had been sent to look for Anastasiya"

"Fear does strange things to people Illya, so much so that it can overwhelm the will to survive. That is why you must learn to control your fear as well as your other feelings; doing so will save your life one day," Vanya told the boy.

"And to answer your question Dima...they come as soon as the tracks are repaired I am afraid."

The first dugout was ready by nightfall and was large enough to tightly squeeze twenty people inside, and that was a good thing, as body heat was important on a cold night.

Illya snuggled up wrapped in his blanket between Dimitry and Anastasiya and for the first time in a very long time, he was feeling happy. He slept through the night as the long walk to the encampment was a tiring one for him. He was a child accustomed to school work and books and not to such rigorous exercise, but living in Bykinia with the partisans was to change that.

The next day Illya began his instruction in bomb-making with a man named Eli Rabinovich...his father brought him over to meet the man who was working at a crude table.

"Illuyshka, this is my old friend Elijah" Niko said " we have been friends since we were young boys."

Eli held his hand out to Illya, shaking it. "It is indeed an honor to meet you, my namesake, at last" he smiled.

Illya looked at his father for an answer. "Illuyshka, this is the man you were named for...Eli saved me from drowning as a boy and we have been friends ever since. I swore to name a son after him in honor of his heroism. It has been many years since we have seen each other."

"Yes," said Elijah" I was fortunate enough to escape Babi Yar and I found your father here in the forest with the partisans...such a miracle. This time you saved my life Niko...the debt has been repaid.

"There was never a debt old friend,"smiled Niko, slapping Elijah on the back.

Once the introductions were finished, Niko left his son with Eli to begin his instruction. Elijah explained that he had been a watchmaker and now he plied his skill in a much different way. Illya listened carefully and learned quickly, much to the surprise of his teacher. He was able to build his own explosive devices within a week. Two weeks later he was devising his own triggering mechanisms and had made improvements to their armaments that astounded Elijah.

"He is amazingly gifted with his hands Eli told Niko," and such a mind; sharp and clever. I have never seen a child like him!

Niko smiled; he knew Illya was smart and was pleased that his boy was becoming well liked and able to make a contribution to their little band of partisans, perhaps more than he first imagined.

There was only one other child in camp besides Illya and Tasiya, a red-haired boy maybe a year older than he, named Kiril. Illya noticed the boy never did much to help, except bringing wood for the fire and fetching water from the stream. He would follow Illya around the camp never uttering a word and would scamper away when Illya tried to speak to him. He asked Dimitry about the boy, but Dima only told him to stay away from Kiril and nothing more. Illya took his brother's advice, guessing that maybe the boy had something wrong with him and was not right in the head.

Weeks turned into months and winter was nearing at its full fury. The temperatures dropped and the winds howled through the trees, but luckily the great snows had not arrived yet. Illya was a full- fledged member of the partisans now; setting his own explosives under railroad tracks and devising booby-traps along the roads. He was not permitted to engage the enemy directly, regardless of how good a shot he was. That both his father and Uncle Vanya forbid. The group now numbered forty and every one of them admired the skinny little boy for his dedication and bravery.

Illya, Tasiya, Dima and a few of the others sat one night around the campfire, even the strange boy Kiril stood nearby leaning against one of the trees. They were shielded against the wind by them and listened, entranced by Vanya as he told one his stories. He would do this often to pass the time in the evenings when all was quiet. His tales would help to make everyone forget the war, even if only for a short time. Vanya's stories often carried a lesson, though not all were willing to listen hard enough to find the true meaning behind the words. Vanya had the "gift" and could sometimes see into ones future...not everyone believed that, but the Roma did.

"_Prihodyat_Come"_ he spoke in Russian, leaning into the fire "I will tell you _skazka_ that which is told...a tale."_

"The legend goes that Illya Muromets, the son of a poor peasant family in the town of Murom. He was born a cripple who could not walk. His family would leave him sitting by the great stove in their house every day to keep warm, when they went out to work in the fields. One day several old ragged men came to the house.

"Good day to you Ilya Muromets, good day to you great Knight" they said to him.

you are the protector of our Russian land and invincible victor over our enemies!"

Ilya Muromets replied" who do you call Knight? I am a cripple and cannot even walk...people laugh at me!"

The men asked him to stand up and they began to chant in the style of the Gregorian rite: "Get up Ilya Muromets, joy to your eager heart, straighten your strong shoulders, stretch your quick legs! Rise Ilya of Murom, rise and be well!

Suddenly he became joyful and stood up. And Oh it was a great miracle! He could walk, dance and felt great power surge through his small body. He was healed!

His elderly parents were trying to remove a tree stump to clear land for a new field.. they worked hard, but without success. All of a sudden they heard a great noise! The ground shook and the forest boomed! It was Illya Muromets come to them and they did not believe their eyes.''

"Is that you dear son? Who gave you this strength and healed you?"

He replied" Good day to you my dear parents, strangers visited me today healed me with their chanting and gave me power beyond belief!"

Muromets decided to choose a strong foal for himself that he named Karushka and cared for him. He washed him, walked him and said to him " You will be a knight's horse and your duty will be difficult!"

In the smithy, the masters hammered arms and armor for the knight Illya Muromets. They made chain mail and a steel sword, a big lance and a purple shield. Then asked him where he would go?

"My path takes me to the city of Kyiv" he answered

On the way he stopped by the city of Chernigov. The Tartars were besieging the city, and he attacked them and won a great victory. The Tartar troops ran away. The citizens of Chernigov opened the gates and welcomed the knight with bread and salt. They asked him to be the leader of their army. He thanked them for such an honor, but told them he must continue to Kyiv.

llya Muromets made his way through the dark pathless forest Chornye Gryazi. There were no creatures, no birds. In this dark forest lived a highwayman named Solovey_nightingale, who lay in wait atop a tree and robbed travelers by killing them with a terrible loud whistle.

When Solovey heard the horse's hoof-beats he became angry. He let out a whistle more fearful than a wolf's howl, or a bear's growl.

Illya Muromets raised his heavy bow and fired an arrow that hit Solovey in the head. The highwayman fell from his tree at Ilya's feet and he lifted Solovey across the back of Karushka and went to Kyiv.

He arrived at at noon when Prince Vladimir and his nights were eating their midday meal. Vladimir asked the strange knight where he was from.

"I am the son of a peasant. I am from Murom. In the city of Cherigov I went to matins, then listened to Solovey's whistle and lived.

Everyone at the table laughed and Vladimir said sternly "What ever are you talking about, young man? Chernigov is besieged by Tartars. The Chyornye Gryazi is a terrible place, wolves and bears avoid going there because of the terrible Solovey! Whoever hears his whistle falls dead!"

Ilya Muromets took them to the courtyard and there showed them Solovey tied to the horse's back. Prince Vladimir saw the highwayman and decided to test to see if it was indeed him. "Well whistle! Bark like an animal, hiss like a snake!" he challenged Solovey.

Solovey drank a full pail of wine and started to whistle so loud that the leaves blew from the trees and a brought a great sandstorm to Kyiv. But only Ilya was able stop him. The evil Solovey was executed by Prince Vladimir's knights and the Prince was so impressed that he invited Ilya to become one of his knights. Ilya Muromets became the greatest defender of Russia against her enemies!"

"_I poetomu moya skazka kontash_ and so my tale ends_!" Vanya announced, slapping his hands to his thighs.

There were smiles and mumbles of appreciation from those who had listened to the Vanya's tale; some stayed by the fire and some got up and moved away, to sit with others by the smaller cooking fires. Illya, however, had noticed that Kiril had disappeared into the darkness of the woods before the story had ended and wondered where he'd gone.

Vanya put his arm around young Illya who remained beside him, whispering,"Listen, learn well and remember my boy. There will come a day when you are grown into your manhood that you will be like the Muromets. You will use your abilities...your gifts, like the Muromets to do what is right...you will live beyond all your sadness to do these things. Do you understand me boy? This I have seen..."

"_Da Dyadya_yes Uncle,_" Illya answered quietly. Then Vanya left him going to the join those who had gathered at another fire. Two of the men had pulled out a small accordion and a balalaika to play some music. Such was the gypsy way, even in the harshest of times to revel in their nomadic way of life through their music.

Dimitry walked over and sat down next to his little brother, having turned seventeen, he was considered a man and felt the need to give Illya some sage advice of his own.

Illya admired his brother greatly, trying to emulate him in every way. He strove to be as brave and selfless as Dima and do as his brother did. Illya would practice moving through the forest, silent as a cat, watching for every small detail that might go unnoticed by others; he learned every nuance of forest life, just as Dimitry did. Dimitry Kuryakin could track anyone through the dark of Bykivnia and Illya was learning to do that too. If Dimitry could have been Count. Illya thought; he knew that he would have a kind and just one.

"Illuyshka" said Dimitry, noticing that his brother was not wearing his hat. "You must keep this on" as he handed the clothing to him. You never know when you must be on the move...always be ready."

He picked up Illya's rifle, placing it closer to his brother. " You need nothing but the basic necessities to survive in this world, but always keep them close to you. Always be aware of your surroundings, watch people...watch their eyes. It is the same for animals...watch the eyes. They will tell you much. Be ready to think and act quickly at all times. Illuyshka, you must forget these children's stories that Vanya tells you... you do not have time to dwell on them. You must become a man before your time because such is the world we live in. It is time to grow up and be strong as I have done...that is how you will survive, and not by listening to some silly fairy tale. You are not the savior of all the Russias...so do not let that story of Illya Muromets go to your head!"

"Yes Dima, I understand...I will not forget what you have said." Yet the words that Uncle Vanya had whispered to him stayed with him. Illya knew that Vanya had told the story for his benefit. He would think more about it to find what was the meaning behind the words, in spite of Dimitry's advice.

One of the women in the camp approached Illya and Dimitry calling them up to join in a dance to the wild gypsy music that was now being played.

"Come you both are too serious! It is time to smile, live, laugh, come dance with me? She grabbed Illya by the wrists but he pulled free of her grip, declining her invitation. So she moved onto to Dimitry, swaying in front of him seductively in time with the music with the music, waving her hands for him to come to her. Dimitry clasped her hands and she pulled him to his feet; she had found a willing partner! Yes, Dimitry was serious, but he also knew not to turn down some fun. He winked with a smile at Illya before the girl dragged him over to the music.

Suddently one of the lookouts came running into camp...

"GERMANS!" he screamed! " A German patrol!"


	5. Chapter 5

The gunfire began immediately as the Nazi soldiers stormed into the camp with the ferocity of a raging bear.

There were screams as some fell, bullets whizzed by others and the partisans scattered like cockroaches

seeking cover in every possible direction.

Illya looked in panic for his father and brother, then suddenly felt a hand grab him by his collar and drag him backwards. He grabbed his rifle, hoping he would have the chance to defend...

"Come! Illya!" Niko cried, pulling his young son past the dugouts and into the cover of the trees.

Illya saw Dimitry disappearing into the forest on the other side of the camp. He and his father went off to the left, and he hoped that Dima would do the same. But he saw no sign of Anastasiya and Vanya.

Niko and his son ran through the darkness with difficulty until their eyes adjusted, ducking under tree limbs, leaping over fallen trees. The could still hear the sound of the gunfire behind them, but now it was less sporadic, and more regular. Niko knew that those left behind if still alive, were being executed.

Illya felt as though they had been running for an eternity when his father finally stopped for a moment, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him to a halt to catch their breath...and to listen.

Then they heard it. Voices coming in the distance behind them...German voices!

"Auf diese weise!_That way!" They heard the soldiers call.

Illya and his father began to run again. The boy's lungs hurt and he could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Niko suddenly pulled him down into a stand of thick brush, pushing him to the ground then lying over him, covering Illya's body with his own.

The Germans were near now, so near that Illya feared they could hear the beating of his heart. And then they passed the place where he and his father lay hidden.

They lay there for a long time before Niko finally rose, lifting his small son up and into his arms. Illya was shaking and his father held him tightly soothing his fear.

Niko listened carefully, not saying a word and putting his fingers to his lips; he told Illya to be silent.

They went back in the direction of the encampment and once finding it, their hearts sank. So many dead. Niko was angry..."Piz-dyetz!_Fuck! He cursed aloud. How did the Germans find the camp? He realized that there was only one answer to that...a traitor.

Illya looked about in desperation searching for Tasiya but she was no where to be found. He looked down at the lifeless face of the girl that had been dancing with Dimitry only an hour ago, he found the body of Elijah as well and felt his blood run cold.

"Dima papa?" he whispered" I saw him running that way" Illya pointed to the other end of the camp.

"I am sure he got away" said Niko," your brother knows these woods better than anyone and could hide easily.

"Maybe Tasiya and Vanya are with him?" Illya asked with hope in his voice.

"I do not know my son...one can only trust in God that they are safe" Niko answered. There is a small clearing a mile or so from here. That is where we had all agreed to meet if there were trouble. Gather supplies, we will need them."

While Illya collected what they needed, Niko went off in the direction that Illya had pointed and searched for Dimitry without success.

Illya grabbed a sack of food, a canteen and boxes of ammunition, then prepared to head out with his father but not before Niko stopped to say a prayer for the dead. Illya though, walked away refusing to join him.

"Prosti Gospodi_Forgive me Lord, but haste requires a short version...Niko blessed himself ",We pray to you O Holy Master, give rest unto the souls of Thy servants in a place of brightness and of green pastures, and forgive them their sins...for Thou art a good God. Amin' ."

They walked out of the camp and back into the forest in cautious in silence, listening for any signs of the German patrol. It took them nearly two hours to cover the distance, traveling in the dark through the denseness of Bykivnia. Once they reached the clearing, they remained hidden.

Niko waited several minutes before finally risking the signal, the call of the Snowy Owl...it's high pitch screech and clucks to be repeated three times.

Niko made the call, and slowly less than a dozen figures emerged from the darkness into the clearing,

Illya looked desperately for his family among them, but not seeing them he looked to his father.

"I know Illuyshka..."Niko whispered. So few of their numbers were left. "Has anyone seen my Dimitry?"

One of the men stepped forward, removing his hat.  
"I am sorry Niko...I saw your son bayoneted by the Germans...he is dead."

Niko bowed his head, as Illya grabbed his father, burying his face in his side. But he did not cry...he had begun to bury his feelings deep, remembering Vanya's words to him.

No one knew what happened to Ivan Ursari or his daughter, so in his absence, the men now looked to Nickolaí to be their leader.

"What do we do now Niko?" they asked ", We are so few!"

He thought for a moment..."Perhaps it is time to go to our homes for a bit. We do not have enough men and our supplies... most were destroyed in the camp. Winter is upon us... we will regroup in the spring thaw,then we will gather more supplies and begin our work again...any of you Rom are welcome to come home with me. Agreed?

The men nodded their acceptance of Niko's decision without question. Home would be a good place to be right now...the remaining Rom however, declined the offer, deciding to stay in the forest...they had their own ways of surviving.

Suddenly there was the loud report of a rifle, then another then machine gun fire!...The Germans had found them again! The last of the partisans attempted to scatter again, but this time they were nearly surrounded. There were the sounds of screams and grunts has they were hit one by one. Niko grabbed Illya trying to get him out of the clearing and he pushed the boy in front of him.

Suddenly Niko lurched forward falling to the ground, and Illya dove to his father. He had been shot in the back! He rolled his father over, seeing blood on his chest as well.

"Illuyshka!" Niko rasped "Go! Stay down...!" he coughed  
"be invisible..." he said to his little son with his last breath.

Illya shook violently as the shots rang out around him. He stayed down in grass, pulling himself, crawling along on his elbows and knees keeping his head down; his blond head hidden by his black cap that Dimitry had told him to keep on his head. Somehow he made it past the Germans unnoticed and into the safety of the woods. He hid there watching as the soldiers walked among the bodies, shooting the men in the head to be sure each was dead. And then they left; the air filled with the scent of death, gunpowder and their laughter and coarse language.

Illya remained hidden shaking violently now from what had just happened. As far as he could tell, he might be the only one left alive. He finally closed his eyes and feel asleep from sheer exhaustion and shock.

When he awoke the sun was coming up. Illya rose, stretching his tired limbs then walked out into the clearing to find the body of his father, and when he did, he knelt down kissing him gently on the cheek then closed his father's eyelids.

He had no idea where he was. But remembering what Dimitry had taught him; he began navigating through the forest using the position of the sun as his compass at first, then the lichen and moss on the trees to guide him. There was only one place to go... home to the dacha.

He made a grisly discovery along the way a day later, in the middle of the forest he stumbled upon a long open pit and in it lay the bodies of dozens of people stripped of their clothing and piled on top of each other...among them he saw the head of a girl, her face hidden, but with long blond hair in a pony tail. Illya gasped, then staggered away from the pit, throwing up as he leaned against a tree for support.

Ten days later he found the oh so familiar field and saw the dacha in the distance. He had very little to eat and was feeling ill yet he found the strength to run, finally reaching the stone wall and clearing it in a single, nimble leap, then burst through the door and right into the arms of his babushka..

She knew without him telling her a word what had happened and helped him in silence to remove his damp clothes. Then prepared a hot bath for him as he felt a bit feverish. He refused to eat and she knew that was the fever talking. She then put him to bed never saying a word to him, nor he to sat with him through the night listening to his words as he cried out in his sleep.

She had her anwers now as to the truth of what happened and needed to hear nothing more.

The next morning Illya remained in his bed while his grandmother placed cold compresses on his head for his fever and fed him chicken soup she had made from the last bird to be slaughtered, the rooster. A day later the fever broke and Illya finally rose from the bed, weak bu able to dress himself. He felt drained of his strength and completely void of all emotion.

He went down to the kitchen where Katitya was delighted to see her brother. But he could not bring himself to to smile nor could he bring himself to play with her, not just yet. She was so innocent and unaware of what had happened, and he wondered how long could she be shielded from all the death and destruction that loomed over them on the horizon.

He stayed inside hiding in his room for the most part, staring out the window keeping a weather eye for anyone who approached the dacha. Then finally when the shock wore off; he began reading some of his father's books, still saying little to his sister or grandmother.

The first heavy snows arrived late that December, but still not the worst of what was to come. The Russian winters were known for their harshness and the remnants of the Kuryakin family simply closed themselves in and waited, together, yet not.


	6. Chapter 6

1943

The food stores were running low, as what Dimitry had brought them, seeming like so long ago, were meant to feed only two people and not three, so Marina was forced to ration the food to the most meagre of portions. They were all hungry now and voicing complaint did no good. Even Katiya had like her brother, become quiet and withdrawn.

The children spoke little if any and tended to stay in their beds more often than not...eventually sleeping in their grandmothers bed. Marina had closed off most of the other rooms to conserve heat and the firewood. In the evenings Illya would try to amuse his sister playing simple games with her, sometimes reading stories. But that was the only time he spoke, he would not engage his grandmother in any sort of conversation. Marina knew that when Illya had returned from Bykivnia, he had changed and become sullen and standoffish. To have seen so many members of his family die in such a short time put a heavy burden on his small shoulders and on his mind. There was little she could say to make him feel better, so she did not trouble the child and let him be, hoping that time and some peace would resolve his pain. Marina busied herself trying to keep her mind off her own hunger by knitting and sewing but it helped little. And so she and the children drank tea to fill their stomachs, and ate the little bit of bread that was left.

The snow stopped, leaving a soft powdery blanket that simply blew and shifted as the howling winds took it. One day covering the ground, the next day being blown into drifts. The temperatures were deadly for weeks staying near zero degrees. But in spite of the harsh weather conditions; the Germans were beginning to appear with on the roads with greater frequency. Several times soldiers came pounding on the door to the dacha looking for any men but discovered that it was only occupied by an old woman and two small children; so they were ignored.

It was men they were interested in, as well as boys. it was Illya's slight build saved him from being taken away, as they thought he was too young for their needs. The Germans were gathering men and boys and shipping them out by the trainload to be used in forced labor camps in Germany and by doing so; they had decimated the population of Kyiv and outlying areas to mostly women, the young and the infirmed.

Those men, at least those in position of authority, who sill remained behind in the city were in the service of the Germans, and merely puppets with their strings being pulled by their Nazis puppeteers. The mayor of Kyiv, Forostavskii, issuing edicts urging young people to volunteer to "work in beautiful Germany in order to learn practical work and skills." There were those foolish enough to believe the propaganda in spite of the words said by Erich Koch the Reich Kommisar the head of the Ukrainian occupation... "the lowliest German worker is a thousand times more valuable than the entire Ukrainian population." The Soviet workers were merely a cheap replaceable commodity to Germany, and nothing more. Everyone was beneath the Aryan race...Hitler had convinced his country of that.

Marina had heard the rumors and saw the Germans with their truckloads of slaves being driven past the dacha and was afraid, but despite her fear; knew that she had no choice. It was time for her to venture out in search of food from the neighbors perhaps or who knew where else?. She really did not know what to do, or where she would go find it. She just knew that she had to try, or sit by and watch the three of them starve to death. Yes, even with the German patrols and trucks passing on the road daily; she had to risk it. But being an old woman, she thought she might be safe, since she was of no danger or use to them.

Illya protested loudly, at last finding his voice again; raising it to a near fevered pitch as he argued to keep his grandmother from leaving the dacha. Marina knew that he was afraid, but it could not be helped. She finally won out, deciding that Illya and his sister would hide for safety in the attic while she was gone.

Marina readied herself, dressing in a warm coat and scarf, then went upstairs carrying a ladder. Illya leaned it up against the nearly invisible trap-door in the ceiling, then climbed the ladder pushing the trap-door up and open. His grandmother passed a bucket filled with drinking water as well as a sack with the last of the with bread inside up to him, then after placing it in the attic, he carried up a small mattress stuffed with hay, two warm blankets and a book.

Then Illya climbed down, taking Katiya by the hand; he helped her to climb up the ladder in front of him. He had his rifle slung over his shoulder. Then Marina passed another bucket and some rags up to them to use for a toilet.

"I will be back by this evening" she promised" make no noise...be still no matter what you hear. I will call you when it is safe to come down...Bog sledit za oboib_ God watch over you both!" She blew a kiss to them.

Illya ignored her words and pulled the ladder up into the attic. Then he and his sister looked out at their grandmother one last time before Illya closed the trap-door. The way the wood was fashioned together made it virtually invisible in the ceiling of the hall. No one would ever know they were there, unless they knew to look for the opening. He turned to Katiya, who had laid down on the mattress;opening one of the books, began to read to her quietly..her favorite story, the Princess Frog.

"Long long ago in the days of yore, there lived a king who had three sons..." he began.

The day passed slowly, and later on they ate some of their bread sparingly as it had to last. By late afternoon Illya and Katiya had fallen asleep, then woke by nightfall waiting in anticipation for their babushka to return with more food. Night passed, then day came, then another but their grandmother never returned to them.

They had run out of food and water, and Illya decided he must go in search of more, as well as for their grandmother. He warned Katiya not to make a sound as he carefully opened the trap-door and lowered the ladder, then climbed silently down to the floor. A floorboard creaked as he put his weight on it and Illya froze at the sound, waiting several minutes until he as satisfied there was no one there. He walked quietly down to the kitchen and found a pitcher of water on the counter; taking a long drink, to quench his thirst and let the water fill his empty belly. Then found a single potato in the larder, blackened from a long storage, but still edible. He did not take a bite from it choosing to give it to his Katiya instead as he knew she was growing weak. He brought the pitcher and the potato up to her in the attic.

" I must go to find more food Katiya" he whispered to her," and look for babushka."

Promise me you will be brave, and quiet, no matter what you hear... YA obeshchoyu, ya vernus'_I promise you I will return, so do not be afraid." Katiya had a hollow look in her eyes, one only see starving. She only nodded to her brother in reply. Illya leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"Ya tebya lyublyu_I love you..."she whispered. It was the first words she had spoken in weeks." I know..."he answered" I love you too." He reached out caressing her cheek with his hand for just a moment. Then he climbed out of the attic, closing the trap-door after him. Then moving the ladder away, he dragged it into one of the bedrooms and hid it beneath a bed.

He checked his rifle, making sure there was a bullet in the chamber, then walked back downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door of the dacha. He moved cautiously toward the tree line behind the house, knowing that if he followed the trees and used them for cover, he could avoid being seen. Walking out in the open and visible to any of the German patrols would surely get him killed or taken away to who knows where on on of the transports. He headed in the direction of a neighbor's home five miles away...Mrs. Greshchenkov, his grandmother's friend. He was hoping that perhaps his baba had gone there in search of food and for what ever reason could not leave. His hope convinced him that could be a possibility, though his mind told him it was probably not true...

His baba had often sent him to her friend to help the woman with chores such as cutting wood as she had no one, and was old. Mrs. Greshchenkov would share her food with the grandson of her friend, and Illya though hungry, would only take a small morsel from her. Mrs. Greshchenkov's only son was "away serving in the Soviet Army and fighting the Germans" she would tell Illya with pride in her voice; but she had not heard from him in a very long time.

It took Illya nearly three hours to cover the distance to the neighbor's house, having to avoid the patrols that appeared now and then along the road. He kept watch for any sign of his grandmother, but there was none. Illya knew somehow deep in his heart that his babushka was dead.

When he finally arrived at the neighbor's house, he was wary, checking his surroundings...his eyes darting everywhere before he approached it. When he felt it safe; he walked up to the front door and knocked, then several times more, then turning the handle; he opened the door sticking his head inside. He called out her name. "Mrs. Greshenkov...it is I, Illya...Illya Kuryakin" There was no answer, so he walked in and searched the house looking for her until he saw the woman sitting alone at the table in her kitchen.

"Mrs Greshenkov?" he spoke again, looking at the woman, then realized her eyes were a blank, in a fixed lifeless stare. Illya knew immediately that the woman was dead...he had seen enough of death already in his young life and knew it well now. He stepped closer to her; reaching up tenderly, he closed the woman's cold eyes with his hand. She had not been shot or wounded, she just simply died.

Illya then looked around the kitchen in search of food. He found it in her pantry...a loaf of potato babka, turnips and potatos. And on her stove was s small cast iron cooking pot filled with a soup of millet more turnips and potatoes! A feast for he and Katiya!

He grabbed a cup dipping it into the cold soup and ate it greedily. Then he moved the pot to the table covering it with it's lid, wrapped the other food in a towel, tying it into a bundle preparing to leave.

He noticed that Mrs. Greshchenkov had her small tie- purse on the table, one Illya had often seen her open to give him a coin for helping her from time to time. He picked it up then pulled it open and emptied the contents onto the table. Out spilled rubles, kopeks, several rose-gold rings and a silver brooch...all the things of value she possessed.

Illya put the money and jewelry back into the pouch, then stuffed it into his coat pocket. Suddenly feeling guilty... knowing he was stealing from the dead...though taking the food had not given him that feeling. "But no matter" he reminded himself, it was no longer of no use to her and might serve to keep his own family alive a bit longer if they could find food to purchase.

He grabbed a large butcher knife from the counter, sliding it into the belt wrapped around his coat, then gathered up the food. Illya turned back to Mrs. Greshchenkiv as he left the kitchen "Forgive me.." he whispered, then crept out the door, heading back home.

It was sundown by the time he made it back to the dacha and found a terrifying sight waiting there for him! A group of Germans were at his home...a truck loaded with frightened people, some of them neighbors stood in front. Illya could hear their moans and whimpers as they huddled together in the transport like bewildered animals. As the Germans entered his dacha; he held his breath, hoping that Katiya made no sound. Some minutes later the soldiers came outside alone...they had not found his sister!

Suddenly, the last soldier coming out the door turned and threw something inside, then stepped away quickly. Seconds later there was a huge explosion, ripping the house apart...it was a grenade!

Illya gasped in shock! It was all the boy could do to keep from crying out as he watched from behind the trees; seeing the house go up in flames. Illya buried his face into his knees curling himself into a ball and rocked himself, fighting back the tears and the guilt. He had promised Katiya that he would return and she would be safe! He had not kept his promise...he should have saved her or died there with her! He tried to drive the thoughts away as he imagined her terror and pain as the flames consumed her...then convinced himself that the explosion must have killed her first before the flames did.

He had felt empty for so long now...how was it possible feel more so?

Illya Kuryakin was now alone in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Illya remained hidden for a long time after the Germans drove off with their prisoners. When the burning dacha had reduced itself to a pile of smouldering blackened wood and embers; he finally moved. He walked to the wreckage that once his home and looked at it with icy blue eyes, not searching for the remains of his baby sister, but just staring in disbelief at what had happened.

They were all gone now, his entire family. He had no one left in the world but himself. He bore no real physical scars in his short existence, but their deaths were scars that he would carry in his heart for the rest of his life.

Illya tried to understand why they all had died and then realized they had done so to save him; sacrificing themselves for him. His mother, his father and grandmother all died because of him. Vanya said he would live past the sorrow, and grow to be a good man, but did that have to happen at the expense of his family...their lives for his? "It was God's will" his baba had said, but he did not want to believe in a God that could allow such pain and suffering, all to benefit the likes of the Nazis. At that moment hated Him. Illya began to kick a burnt timber violently.

_"YA tebya nenavushu Boga! YA nenavizhu tebya!"_ I hate you God! I hate You!_ He cried over and over in anger, until he could do it no more.

He walked away from the house across the back of the yard to a small shed that his father kept things in,odd supplies...tools and such. There he found a piece of oiled canvas, a length of rope, candles, and his father's hatchet. Illya huddled there in the shed pausing to finish off the soup from the cooking pot; not thinking about making it last...he did not care. He wolfed it down, sopping up every last drop with a small piece of the babka and then thought carefully about what he should do next.

He could try to find the remaining Rom back in the forest, but decided that would be near impossible and too dangerous in the frigid weather. He needed to find a safe shelter and quickly, perhaps he should return to Mrs. Greshchenkov's house? He made that his plan.

It began to sleet, and a bone-chilling wind began to blow across the field, so he took the oiled canvas, cutting a slit in the middle of it, he put his head through the hole slipped it over himself to protect against the wet and wind. He gathered up his supplies and his rifle, but abandoned the empty cooking pot and set out to return to the neighbor's house.

And so he walked out into the darkness; the sleet stinging like sharp needles against his face. He headed back the same way as he had come from Mrs. Greshchenkov's; staying well hidden behind the trees and ducking down every time a vehicle would roar past him along the desolate road. The weather slowed him and it took him much longer to reach the house, but when he arrived, he found it destroyed as his own home had been.

He was tired and disappointed, so he decided to bury himself beneath a stand of small evergreens that offered him a little protection from the elements while he slept. He guessed it would be close to dawn soon and needed to be awake as soon as the sun rose; Illya huddled to himself, keeping the canvas over him and dozing lightly, knowing now he needed to stay aware of his surroundings at all times. In the coming weeks he would perfect that skill, cat-napping anywhere and any time he could, yet be able to wake in an instant, alert and ready to move. His life depended upon it...

When morning arrived Illya allowed him self one of the raw potatoes, as he needed the energy to go on. He continued walking among the trees that lined the road, but as he traveled on he found the same over and over again. Every home along the road had been destroyed.

The only place now for him to go was into the city...to Kyiv. He doubted there would be any help for him there as he was sure the residents of the city were suffering and another orphan wandering the streets would mean nothing to them.

All he knew was that he had to keep moving and reach the city. This became his only hope. He thought of his Uncle Vanya's story and wondered if he was meant, like Illya Muromets, to go to Kyiv after all...then he thought maybe it was just a story as Dimitry had said, and nothing more. Illya Kuryakin was a frightened little boy who was not sure of much at the moment...

It took him days to reach the outskirts of the city or what was left of it.

The bombing that he had heard so long ago must have done this...the German Blitzkrieg his father had called it. It had reduced the once bustling outer neighborhoods of Kyiv into mostly rubble. That and the booby traps his father told told him saboteurs had left for the advancing German army, destroying factories, mills, anything that could be of use to the enemy. As Illya wandered among the ruins, he saw no one, not one living person. There were a few dead bloated corpses on the streets here and there, but these he ignored.

He found a broken water pipe that was still running with water and had not frozen yet. It ran into the dust, debris and snow on the street, creating what looked like a little ice-covered river. Illya crouched down drinking from the pipe greedily, pullinh out a piece of the babka from the towel and munched on it.

Illya wandered on, climbing carefully through the fallen buildings, until he reached a street where a few of them had not completely collapsed. He ventured into one of the homes , moving about cautiously until until he located the kitchen and clearing away debris from the pantry he opened the cabinet. In it he found a loaf of stale bread, a small bag of millet, a few potatoes and a bottle of vodka.

He spotted a cast iron cooking pot on the floor, one that was smaller than Mrs. Greshchnkov's and easier to carry and an empty wine bottle that he could use to put water in. He searched a cabinet drawer; finding a wooden cooking spoon, bowls and a piece of flint. Illya gathered all his finds and placed them into the cooking pot and carrying it with him he then climbed the stairs to explore further.

As he walked up the stairs slowly as bits of plaster dust fluttered down from a gaping hole in the ceiling above him, blown in by the whistling wind. And it suddenly gave him goosebumps and he shuddered, as it reminded him of Solovki, the gulag where his grandfather died. He'd never seen the place, but the stories his father had told him, let his imagination run free.

In one of the bedrooms he found a canvas rucksack and he immediately filled it with all of his treasures. Then in another one of the bedrooms he opened all the dresser drawers one by one, finding nothing until he opened the last drawer at the bottom of the chest; in it was a grey woolen scarf which he quickly stuffed into the rucksack.

In the next bedroom he found a pair of mis-matched mittens, a pair of thick wool socks and the best find of all, a black wool coat laying in the bottom of a closet. The coat, not unlike his own, but was too big for him, He removed his canvas, slipping into the coat anyway, tightening his belt around it, finding it fit well enough over his own clothing. It would at least help protect him from freezing to death until he found shelter. He then put his canvas back over himself, already feeling warmer with the extra layers.

Illya spread his treasures out on the bed, taking stock of what he had found.

He had half a loaf of babka, the bag of millet, the stale bread, four turnips, 5 potatoes and the vodka. This was more food than he had seen in weeks. He had a cooking pot, flint, candles, the hatchet, the kitchen knife, the wine bottle, rope, a second coat, a scarf, mittens and the socks, and of course his rifle..but sadly he had little ammunition, as it had been destroyed in the dacha.

Illya suddenly felt quite pleased with himself, now if he just could find safe a place to stay, things just might be all right. He immediately re-packed the ruck-sack now bulging with his finds, remembering Dimitry's words..." always be ready." He wandered down to a small bedroom at the end of the hall and there on the floor looking like a rag, he found a woolen blanket! He could not believe his good fortune!

Illya smiled to himself as he folded up the blanket, but realizing he was tired, he decided, after looking out bedroom window, peering from behind a torn drapery, that it might be safe for him to lay down and take a quick nap. There was a trellis going down the outside wall of the house and it offered him a means of escape out the window, if he needed it.

A decrepit wooden chair sat in the corner of the room and he used it to prop it up against the door knob, keeping the door securely closed. He laid his rucksack on the dirty mattress to use as a pillow and covered himself with the blanket, falling asleep instantly.

He did not know how long he had slept, when he was woken by voices, children's voices down in the street below. Illya jumped up from the bed in a panic. stuffed the blanket half into the rucksack, and headed quickly out into the hallway, moving down the stairs without making a sound.

The voices were closer now, coming into the house and Illya ducked behind one of the collapsed walls before they saw him. He could hear them moving about as they were careless, being clumsy and noisy. They were searching for food just as he had been and as soon as they went into the kitchen; he rose from his hiding place and ran out the door.

He ran down the street leaping over the debris as he tried to put distance between himself and the "others." He could not take a chance, he could not trust..."they could take his food from him." he thought defensively. They and anyone else were his competition now in a game of survival; a game he was determined to win.

Illya stopped, finding himself a little winded, and slowly made his way back to the broken water pipe. He filled his wine bottle with water, drank his fill, then refilled it again. This time he headed off in a different direction.

He wandered for days until he stumbled into a ware house, its floor covered in wreckage from the holes blown in its roof; the walls however, were intact. He walked inside far into the back of the building where he found totally by chance, a small room; it's entrance almost invisible to the eye. One had to walk around a wall to see it, and the way the brickwork looked; it created an optical illusion. From a distance it looked like just one long, single wall! The door to the room was broken and inside there were the remains of an old wooden desk and chair. Illya knew instantly that he had found his safe haven.

He proceeded to fortify his hiding place, piling debris and bits lumber to disguise and cover the entrance way; striving to honor his father's last words and to be "invisible."

Illya rummaged through more of the ruined homes, gathering anything he could to make his hideaway more comfortable. He brought the odd pillow from a sofa or chair, he found the remnants of heavy curtains that he used cover the walls, as well as the entrance, a small carpet for the floor. He took anything he could find to insulate the windowless room against the power of the Russian winter.

In one of the homes he found books... hundreds of books, and Illya started bringing them back with him to read, and then to burn in his fire after he had finished reading them. Eventually he was surrounded by stacks of books and he would lay on the pillows reading them by candle light. Books on history, mythology, mathematics, science...there was even a book on rudimentary physics. Much of it beyond his schooling, but he strove to understand it all. This was food for his mind!

He continued to manage to find edible food here and there...tins of soup, and sardines, things abandoned by the Soviet soldiers as they surrendered or retreated from the city. He supplemented his diet with rats after he discovered from much practice that he could kill easily with a crude sling shot he had made. His soups consisted of what ever he could find and he used the remaining turnips and potatoes sparingly as well as a little of the millet . Sometimes it did not taste so good, but it was food, none the less. He began adding vodka to the mix to help with the flavor, then he would take a swig from the bottle to warm himself.

At first when he drank it, he did not like the burning feeling it made in his mouth and throat, but he did like the way that it warmed his belly, so he drank more from the bottle. When he woke up hours later, his head pounding; and feeling sick, as though he were going to die. Illya recovered, but decided he needed to be more careful with the vodka...

He walked outside just before dusk, and looking up at the darkening grey sky, he knew that a big storm was on its way and would arrive perhaps in a day or so. He hurried, gathering more timber and books to burn, knowing that he might not be able to go outside again for some time.

And so he waited.


	8. Chapter 8

The Russian army for the most part had been in disarray, though there were pockets of very persistent and fanatic Russians fighting from the very first moments of Germany's surprise attack...operation "Barbarossa", it was simply not enough. Most of Russia's military production had been destroyed, but slowly beyond Germany's reach, the army and the military infrastructure reorganized and began to grow strong again.

The ideology of the "master race" motivated Hitler's soldiers and S.S. to begin a systematic and cruel annihilation of the Russian people by any means and that included letting them starve and freeze to death. But now in spite Stalin's regime that had killed millions of his own countrymen; the Russian people came to their senses; gradually realizing that the Nazis were far worse than Stalin, and they began to rise up, literally fighting to avoid extinction.

Battles began for the cities of Smolensk, Odessa , Murmansk, Leningrad, Kursk and Moscow and on 31 January the Germans surrendered at Stalingrad! Mother Russia was raising her angry head at last!

But Illya Kuryakin was oblivious to these happenings in his country as he was concerned with the daily task of survival. He had tried going deeper into the city where there was less damage, but realized there were too many roadblocks and soldiers, making it a dangerous a place for him to be.

By night he would read his books, losing himself in the stories of Anton Chekov, some of which made him smile and some made him terribly sad. Other times he would take charcoal from the fire and he would practice complex mathematical problems scratching them out on the floor, by day he searched for food. This was his life now.

Snow had finally started falling through the night but he ventured out into it since it was not coming down heavily yet; he decided it would be wise to find more food, as his little stockpile would only last him a few days at best. That was when he first encountered one of them...the dogs. Animals that had gone feral, and now roaming the streets of Kyiv in packs, hunting down their prey. He had heard them barking and howling, but had never seen one before.

Illya heard the growl first, behind him as he was bent digging through a pile of rubble...a low gurgling sound. He felt himself stiffen, as he turned and stood up slowly. A black ferocious thing faced him bearing its fangs with its ribs visible through its fur. The beast took a step closer to him and Illya glanced at his rifle, just too far out of reach for him to grab it.

_"Nitsta sobaka...horoshaya sobaka.._" Illya whispered softly"_ Vy ne hotite, chtoby ukusit' menya ty. Da, horoshaya sobaka_ Nice dog, good dog...you do not want to bite me. Yes, gooood dog._ He stared into the creature's eyes, trying to will it to be tame, yet he could see it...in the eyes, and he knew it was about to strike.

The beast sprang up at him, snapping its jaws, going for his face and knocking him down to the ground. Illya put his left arm up in defence, and screamed as he felt the dog's fangs bite into his flesh. Yet with his other hand he managed to pull the butcher knife from his belt, lashing out at the dog. It yelped in pain as it bolted.

Illya pulled himself up from the ground breathing heavily and shaking, he examined his arm seeing blood through the tears in his sleeve, then grabbing his rifle' he headed back quickly to his hiding spot. Once inside he peeled away the layers of clothing, to see the bloody fang marks in his forearm, it was not as bad as he first thought, since the layers of clothing he wore helped protect him from the worst of it.

He quickly made a fire, heated some water and washed the wound thoroughly. Dreading it; he took a metal rod that he had been using to stoke his fires, heated it in the flames, and used it to cauterize the wound. Illya placed a wooden stick in his mouth first to bite down on as he placed the hot metal against the flesh, searing the wound closed, hoping to prevent infection. He took a swig of vodka from the bottle before cauterizing... fainting once the task was done.

He came to a short while later, feeling something touching his face, waking him with a start. A set of eyes were staring into his and Illya pushed himself backwards, scuttling away in retreat.

"Myau..." the creature made a sound. Illya saw it was a cat, a grey cat staring at him, sitting beside the fire. Illya's first thought was that it was food...but when the cat suddenly hopped into his lap and began purring and rubbing his face, he thought otherwise. This was the first physical contact he had in a long time and it felt good. The cats "purrrr" was so welcoming and soothing.

_"Blagudarya kiska, vy sdelali menya ulybkui, takim obrazom vy sohranili zhizn'_ Thank you puss, you have made me smile, and by doing so, you have saved your life_" he said reaching out, giving the cat a scratch under the chin.

He knew it was a foolish thing to do, but he opened a tin of sardines and shared it with the hungry cat. Over the next few days, it would now come and go, bringing with it mice, then rats... dropping them at Illya's feet in an apparent offer to share, just as he had done. At night the cat would snuggle up under the blankets to keep warm, and Illya found the body heat of the animal lying close to him most comforting.

And so Illya and _Kaska_puss_, as he now called her, ventured out together on a daily basis. Kaska became a sort of "look out" for Illya and warned him when the dogs were near, simply by disappearing quickly with a loud " MYAU! "

The dogs knew of him now and he had to be careful. He had fashioned and taken to carrying a short wooden spear with him, as he dare not use his rifle and risk giving himself away to anyone; still he carried it with him anyway. The dogs were another real danger to him now, besides starvation. There was many the time the pack had chased him but still he managed to get away. His fear of them made for another unwelcome addition to his nightmares and Illya would often wake up in a sweat, dreaming of angry jaws tearing at his throat.

The skies remained dark and menacing and it snowed a little every day, but still the great storm that he expected had not unleashed itself. As Illya wandered out in search of food he realized the area was picked clean of anything edible, even the mouse and rat populations were disappearing. He had taken to wandering farther in his search, when he heard the voices of the "others."Observing them from a distance...he saw a group of children...untouchables" as he; street orphans... millions of them wandered the rest of country now. They were a sorry looking lot, ill clothed and half starved.

Illya retreated from them deciding to return to his "home" when suddenly Kaska chirped her warning and took off...but not soon enough as Illya was again face to face with the great black beast.

The boy took a step backwards and just as the dog leaped for him, he pulled the spear in front of him and the dog's momentum impaled itself onto the spear killing it as it's body fell forward, knocking Illya to the ground. The young Kuryakin felt triumphant as he hoisted the body of the dog onto his shoulders to take back with him..he and Kaska would feast on "dog" stew! He was still afraid of the packs as they had become larger and more dangerous, but at least now he knew he was not completely at their mercy.

As he walked down the street with his prize Illya stopped, cocking his head to one side... suddenly feeling that he was being watched, and not by Kaska..._"Kto tam...pukazat' sebya!_who is there?...Show yourself!_" He called, raising his rifle.

One by one, children rose like ghosts from the ruins, nearly a dozen of them, holding their hands up in surrender; the vacant look of starvation and fear in their eyes.

_"Pazhaluísta, ne ubivaíte nas.._." Illya suddenly felt sorry for them..."_do not worry, I am not going to kill you. Put your arms down._.." he said with authority in his voice. The children walked towards him, looking so weak and pathetic that Illya knew he had nothing to fear from them.

"Where are you living...show me," he ordered them. and without protest, they lead him to their safe house several blocks away. They were living in squalor in a basement beneath one of the collapsed buildings.

Down below there were another four children... toddlers too young to be out on the streets and an older blonde girl who was maybe twelve years was but a small fire burning in the middle of the room for warmth. Illya looked around and saw that these children had not been as creative as he in fortifying their shelter. They had a cooking pot, a few knives and bowls, but little else...nothing covered the small window or floors. What the children wore was ragged and thin.

Illya dropped the carcass of the dog on the floor, took the butcher knife and cut off a haunch for himself then kicked the body with his foot.

"This is for you...make it last. I will return to help you tomorrow." He turned to leave, not saying another word.

_"Zhdat'_wait"_ said the blonde girl" stay...eat with us.?"

_"Nyet..._" he answered continuing to walk away.

_"Pazhaluísta.._."she said " what is your name boy, that we may thank God that He sent you to us...my name is Irina." she smiled at him.

He waved his hand in a sharp gesture" Do not waste your prayers on me..." he said then turned and left.

The next day, taking pity on them, Illya returned giving them spears he had made during the night for them to protect against and maybe hunt the dogs for food. He brought them cushions, curtains, rags...anything else he could find to help them survive. And told them to gather as much wood as they could because a great storm was coming. Then he left, but not before Irina boldly kissed him on the cheek, thanking him.

He blushed.

Finally the terrible snowstorm came, and with it howling winds. Snow driven down through the holes in the roof of the warehouse piled on the floor into great mountains. Illya built up his fire, covered the door with a heavy curtain, leaving a small opening at the top for the smoke to escape, and he snuggled himself under his bedding with Kaska, settling in to read another book by candlelight.

He watered down the dog-meat stew he had made, throwing in the last turnip and potato. He took a drink of vodka from the bottle, finally pouring the last of it into the pot...he had only a few tins of food left. The fire kept the room fairly warm, there were no windows, and the drapes he had hung on the walls and laid across the floor helped against the cold.

The storm raged for three days, and Illya feeling his confinement, put on his hat and coat, ventured out to the door of the warehouse just to simply gaze at the storm. There was at least three feet of snow on the ground...but it could have been more since was the wind blowing it into drifts, it made difficult for him to estimate the snowfall.

Suddenly Illya heard a terrible wail, echoing in the whistling of the wind. Listening carefully; he recognized it as the terrified cry of a child. He squinted his eyes, looking out into the storm, and saw a little dark-haired girl dressed in rags, her belly swollen from hunger, staggering along the street where the wind had blown the snow clear. She held her small fists to her eyes as she screamed. Without hesitation, Illya dashed out into the storm, scooping her up and bringing her into his shelter.

She could not have been any more than three years old and must have gotten lost in the storm...or put out into it to die by someone who could no longer feed her. He removed her wet clothes then wrapped her in his blanket her as she whimpered and shivered. He laid down next to her beside the fire putting his arms around her for warmth, whispering quietly, telling her she was safe now and to not be afraid.

When the whimpering stopped, he spooned some the broth from his stew into her mouth. She stopped shivering as he sat beside her, trying to soothe her, gently stroking her hair. She looked up at him with dark, hollow eyes, until they finally closed. He let her be and wrapped himself up in the bedding and went to sleep.

When Illya awoke the sun was at last shining, he could see its brightness over the top of the curtain covering the door and he knew the storm was over. He looked over to the girl, still laying there with her eyes closed and he reached out to touch her little pale face. It was ice cold...she had died during the night. He carried the small, lifeless body out into the warehouse and buried her beneath as much rubble that he could lift and went back inside sitting down beside the fire... he screamed, then sobbed.

The next day he checked on the other children once the wind had done its work blowing the snow and clearing some of the streets, and found they had survived the storm. They were all hungry again and this time they became the "pack" and Illya joined them as they hunted down some of the dogs. Ohers must have been doing the same, and the packs eventually disappeared all together.

Illya succumbed to the fact that he had no choice but to go farther into the city to find food now, where there were Germans everywhere.

The only things he carried with him were his rifle, spear, and rucksack; emboldened now by his hunger, he dared to enter a German encampment, lured by the smell of food...the aroma of freshly baked bed to be precise. He could not resist it, as he was so hungry, and his hunger forced him to abandon good sense.

There nine tents in the encampment , stack of crates piled everywhere, parked vehicles, but not as many soldiers as he would have expected. It looked as though it were some sort of supply depot.

Illya looked about, then darted across to the tent where the aroma was coming from, and slipped his head underneath the canvas, peeking inside. There no one was there. He slipped inside an found dozens of loaves of freshly baked bread cooling on trays. He grabbed two of them, stuffing the bread into his rucksack. Then he spotted the shelves full of canned goods, sacks of potatoes, cabbage, carrots, grain, tea, jam powdered milk, and even chocolate and vodka!

Vodka with Russian labels ...the Germans must have taken it for themselves. He grabbed anything he could, stuffing it all into the rucksack until it was near bursting. Then he left.

Illya disappeared, heading back to the children and gave them a loaf of bread and most of the tins; he returned to his cubby, making himself a hearty pot of soup with the vegetables, tea with powdered milk and some bread with jam. He gave Kaska a tin of sardines, it was true feast for both of them After he was done, he helped himself to a generous swig of vodka and slept, feeling very satisfied.

A few days later he again risked returning to the German camp for more food. He tried to tell himself that it was foolhardy and by returning, he tempted the fates. Yet he went anyway. He slipped inside the tent again filling his rucksack, when someone walked in and discovered him.

_"Alt!_" The soldier ordered.

Illya froze, raising his hands above his head still holding some tins.

He was a young soldier blond and blue-eyed just as Illya; looking not much older than Dimitry was...maybe even a bit younger, but "no matter, he was still the enemy," the young Russian reminded himself.

"_Sie sprechen Deutsch, junge?_ The soldier asked.

"Yes, I speak German," Illya answered boldly, trying not to show any fear.

The soldier approached him cautiously, eyeing the sack of food and the tins in Illya's hands..."Are you hungry boy?"

Illya nodded to him.

Looking Illya over; the soldier suddenly grabbed a burlap sack, throwing into it tins of meat, biscuits, a sack of millet, and more of the fresh vegetables.

He held it out to Illya..."Here take it boy, and be careful when you leave. Come back in a week and I will give you more now.._.mach schnell!_

Illya stared at him for a second, dropping the tins in his hands; he snatched the sack from the soldier and crawled with it and his ruck sack out under the canvas and ran from the camp. He did not understand why the soldier had done this for him, but that did not matter. He now had food for more than a week for himself and the children. He was unsure if he should return as the soldier had told him to; but Illya now found himself curious.

A week later Illya went back to the tent in the encampment, and finding the young soldier there alone, Illya stepped out of his hiding place, revealing himself. _"Guten tag_ hello"_ he said in German.

"Hello little one," the soldier smiled, "I am glad that you were brave enough to come back...my name is Anatoly"

"That is a Russian name," Illya said he said without emotion.

"Yes," answered Anatoly" my mother was Russian, my father German...the Nazis are getting desperate for soldiers it seems. "I was of good enough use to be a cook for them...what is your name boy?"

"I am Illya Nickovich Kuryakin," he answered with pride.

Anatoly smiled and filled another sack with food and handed it to Illya telling him to again return in a week's time. And when he did, Illya finally asked him why he, a German soldier was helping a Russian.

Anatoly became very serious. I will trust you with my secret since you have been brave enough to trust me. I am not only half Russian, but I am also a Jew."

"But the Germans hunt down Jews, and gypsies. They killed my babushka's tribe last year." Illya said nothing about the rest of his family to Anatoly.

"Then it is a great secret that you know I tell you then Illya Nickovich"

"Are you disguising yourself as a German so they will not kill you? Illya asked.

"Yes, I will do it until I get word of my cousins in Belorussia...the Bielskis. They are partisans, Jewish partisans. I am going to join them to fight the Nazis when I am able."

"How can you trust me with this?" asked Illya". How do you know I will not turn you in?"

"You look like a good boy Illya... that is the Russian for Elijah, a Jewish name...are you a Jew?

"No I am not..but I was named after my father's friend who was a one..." Illya answered

"It matters not," Anatoly smiled ."It only matters that I can at least help one Russian then." He handed another bag of food to Illya," Come back in ten days time..."

"Thank you Anatoly" Illya whispered as he left... then added "we were partisans too, my father, brother and I..."

Anatoly knew the boy did not fully trust him, but that was alright. What he had told the boy was to let him know that "he" was trusted. He was simply glad to be of help to one of his mother's people...

Illya went back to the other children, this time staying with them a bit as he gave them their rations. He sat with Irina and opening a tin of chocolate, his favorite thing, he broke off a piece and shyly gave it to her. He leaned over, giving her a nervous kiss on the cheek..."My name is Illya," he whispered, blushing again.

Suddenly Kaska jumped up into Irina's lap making her smiled back at Illya as she nibbled on the chocolate; her hazel eyes dancing at him in the firelight. Eventually he returned to his place feeling good and realized he was having strange, unfamiliar feelings for Irina. He stoked the fire and pulled out one of his books to read...this one by Leo Tolstoy.

Illya returned to Anatoly in ten days, and was relieved to find the camp still there, and so this became Illya's weekly routine, sneaking in and sneaking out of the camp,until the snows finally melted and the spring thaw was well underway.

Thanks to the kindness of Anatoly, he and all the children had survived the winter, bu when he returned to see Anatoly, the German camp was gone. They had moved away, giving Illya a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the tire tracks in the muddy ground.

He thought perhaps he could follow them, but realized that would be very foolish. As he turned to leave, he noticed two burlap sacks hanging on the tree branches above him. He climbed up, cutting them free and let them drop to the ground. When they fell, some of the contents spilled out and he knew that Anatoly had left him more food and supplies; enough so as to last them all through spring if they were careful!

_"Spacibo moya tovarisch Anatoly!_" Illya smiled. He never saw the young soldier again, and hoped he did make it to his cousins.

The days grew warmer and longer, and the children ventured outside to play...still being children. They did so with care as soldiers were now beginning to come through their part of the city and some heard that they were collecting the street children and taking them away.

Illya and Irina were walking along the street holding hands now, watching the smaller children as they played. Suddenly Kaska chirped her warning and disappeared. Children came running toward them from around the corner, many of them Illya did not know. Then he heard it, the roar of an engine and gunfire.

Instantly there were German soldiers everywhere; they were gathering the children and throwing them into the transports!

Illya and Irina ran still holding onto each other, when a soldier came up behind them, grabbing Illya by his belt. The boy swung himself around, lashing out with his butcher knife. Another soldier knocked Irina down out of the way, hitting Illya on the head with the butt of a rifle. The boy's head snapped back as he collapsed, falling down on the muddy ground next to Irina.

Irina screamed. This was the last thing Illya Kuryakin remembered.


	9. Chapter 9

Illya woke laying in the back of the transport as it bounced violently along the road; the driver swerving to avoid there wreckage of the collapsed buildings in the streets. Disoriented; he looked at the faces of the other children, searching for Irina but he did not see her among the twenty or more crammed into the back of the truck. He suddenly felt a pair of hands gently lift his head... and realized it was Irina who was behind him as she lay his head in her lap.

"Illya.."she whispered, crying. Irina's voice shook as she spoke to him. : I heard them say something about a camp...Illya they are going to kill us!"

"Stop it," he ordered her quietly." If they were going to kill us then we would be dead." He held his hand to the side of his head, bloodied where he had been struck by the soldier, then pulled himself up and reaching out he put his arm around her shoulder trying to comfort her.

"We will just have to wait, and not think about it." he reassured her, even though in his heart, he knew she was right. They were all probably going to die.

The Germans took the children to a camp located not far from St. Cyril's Monastery on north-west outskirts of Kyiv. Multiple transports arrived carrying seventy five to one hundred children, entering the camp, one after another after another.

Illya knew as soon as they passed the ravine and smelled the stench of death where they were...Babi Yar. His parents thought he was out of ear-shot when they spoke of it, and what was being done there. He made sure to show no emotion to Irina as the drove by it.

Their transport pulled into the camp. The children were ordered out of the truck and to line up, guided by several matrons dressed in nursing uniforms. They complied without a sound, too frightened even to cry now...thinking if they did, they would be killed there on the spot.

A Nazi officer walked among their ranks, stopping to look, stopping to touch...the toddlers, the weak and sickly were removed by the matrons, near twenty-five Illya guessed. He watched as they were escorted to the far side of the camp and loaded into a large van. He heard the engine start, but it never drove away...

The officer moved in front of the children again, flanked by two soldiers.

"Welcome children," he spoke in German, to Syrets Camp. I am Obersturmbahnfürer Radomsky," he said as he began to walk back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back; a large German Shepard dog following after him.

"Here you will have food and shelter, as long as you behave... and cooperate; you will be safe. Is this understood children?" A man named Rein translated Radomsky's words into Russian and Ukrainian.

When he received only silence as an answer, he repeated himself again, only this time louder,"IS THIS CLEAR CHILDREN?"

_"ETO PONYATONO DETYEY?_" Rein translated.

_"Da,-eer_" yes sir,_ they answered him in unison.

"You will be housed in building number 4...there you will find blankets, soup and bread. The matrons will feed you, then a doctor will examine you all after you have eaten. TOMORROW...you will be ready to work. Now dismissed!"

Rein finished translating and the children were herded toward the barracks by the matrons and guards.

Illya with Irina still at his side found eight of their group of children among the crowd, and together they ushered them, keeping them together as they moved into the wooden barracks. Illya paused for a moment, gazing at the camp before they went inside...there were prisoners milling about, dressed in dirty, ragged striped uniforms. They were all half-starved and seemed vacant...their eyes wide with the haunted look of hopelessness.

He observed four watch-towers at each corner of the camp manned by soldiers with machine guns. Outside the barbed-wire fence the land was desolate and the only thing Illya could see was a sign marked 'BlokN2.' Across the camp were rows of dug-outs, some labeled "Soviet", "Communist," "Partisan"...others labelled "Jüdische." Behind the dug-outs on the outside of the fence stood a few rows of trees, the only indication of life outside the perimeter of the camp.

The children entered the barracks and lined up along the plain platform bunks that were built along the sides of the building. The matrons then ladled out a weak broth into wooden bowls, and handed that to each of them along with a piece of bread.

"You will keep these bowls," the matrons said coldly..."lose yours and you will not eat." One of them picked up the empty pot and leaving the children. It was only then that they wolfed down their meager portions.

"I'm still hungry!" Cried one of them, then another and another, until there was a cascade of sniffles and whimpers.

_"Byt' spokoínym!_Quiet!"_ One of the older boys yelled, "Do you want to get us killed? What do you think happened to the children they took away? They were gassed to death in that van...this is an extermination camp you _durakov_fools!_"

_"Stoi!_" Illya spoke up loudly, "You are frightening them!"

"Make me runt!" The other boy said, who was obviously a bully and bigger than Illya, but the young Kuryakin would not be goaded into a fight with him...he had leaned to choose his own battles. Illya said nothing back to him, instead he turned to Irina, helping her with the children and getting them together into the bunk and covering them with the coarse woolen blankets. It was too early for bed, but many of them fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and fear.

"I thought so!" The bully laughed at him. "You have a big mouth for a scrawny one."A A

A short time later, the matrons re-appeared with two Sotniks; taking the children to see the doctor in groups of ten. He examined them quickly and was rough with them as he listened to their heartbeats, their lungs and looked into their eyes. Their heads were shaved, and some sort of powder for lice was thrown on them. A soldier asked each child their name and age, and then the last step...they received a tattooed number in blue ink on the inside of their left forearm.

"Illya?" Irina whispered as she huddled next to him on the communal bunk. "What is it they think we can do for them...we are only children?"

"I do not know...now go to sleep. I am sure what ever they have planned for us to do tomorrow; it will be a hard and long day."

"Illya?"

"Yes, Irina..."

"You talk so much like a grownup...how is that?" She asked.

"I was with my father and brother in the partisans, and I was told I could no longer be a child...I listened and learned very well," he whispered to her." Now enough talk...sleep!" Illya wrapped his arm round her and fell asleep instantly.

The children jarred from their sleep at four in the morning, led to another building where they were fed bread and water and allowed to use the latrine. By five a.m. they were working, standing on platforms next to tables in a long building beside the three of the extermination vans, where they went through the contents of suitcases stacked high, nearly to the ceiling.

At the tables they sorted everything into large piles, shoes, suits, furs all type of clothing, photographs, eye glasses... every sort of personal item imaginable. There was a special bin for jewelry, and several of the older boys were assigned to breaking out gold from human teeth...

There Illya and the other children toiled at their jobs for twelve hours a day, stopping only once for midday bread and water, then again for a thin broth with bread in the evening. Sometimes they received no food at all. Every day there were more and more things to sort as truckloads of people...men, women and children were brought in from the trains and were put in the special vans, now driven away full and returning empty. Work gangs of prisoners unloaded the bodies down in the ravine...

One by one, the children that Illya and Irina cared for fell to exhaustion and disappeared, only to be replaced by new children brought into the camp. As the days passed he and Irina witnessed countless brutalities as the Germans tortured and murdered prisoners, some times just for sport.

Illya had had lost all sense of time, and was beginning to lose himself. He guessed it was summer now, as it was very warm. The smell from the ravine was overwhelming in the heat, even though he had become somewhat accustomed to it; the temperatures now magnified it.

He did his best to stay invisible and Irina along with him. They had grown close and comforted each other in the nightmare they now lived in. Though Illya knew they both had the same vacant stare of hopelessness in their own eyes he had seen in other prisoners when they first arrived at the camp; it was only a matter of time before they both died.

One day, the air became filled with choking, acrid smoke as work gangs of over a hundred men were sent to the ravine to exhume and burn the bodies of the thousands of nameless dead that lay buried in Babi Yar. Illya could sense that the Germans seemed concerned about something; there was a feeling of ugencey to their ridding the ravine of the remains of the dead. The fires burned for weeks.

Vasily, the bully was put in charge of the barrack by the Germans, and he would frighten some of the children into giving up their food to him. He became Rein's favored "pet" and the boy became vicious, participating in beatings, spying on and betraying other prisoners. He made arrangements for the older girls to "entertain" some of the soldiers in the camp, and if one of them became pregnant then she too disappeared. And so it finally happened to Irina; she had been impregnated by a soldier. When she had told Illya she was pregnant she was very calm. She knew her fate had been sealed and she kissed Illya on the lips telling him it was good that they at least were able to say goodbye. The next day Vasiliy stood laughing at Illya, tormenting him as he watched Irina being taken away to the vans. Illya had no tears to cry, he had no feelings left to give. Even Vasiliy could not anger him. Illya Nickovich Kuryakin was just waiting to die.

Vasiliy arranged for boys to be sent to soldiers as well, though risky for the pedophiles among the German ranks; these men kept their preferences secret as they too could just as easily end up in the death vans or in front of a firing squad for their deviant ways.

Even the Nazis had "standards" among their military. They paid Vasiliy well with coin and extra food rations to keep their dirty secrets. One night Illya was taken by Vasiliy from his bunk to the doctor's office, where a soldier was waiting there for him. It was the doctor's assistant, Karl Voelker and Illya remembered him...the man was always staring at him. Voelker handed Vasiliy a loaf of bread and some money, then closed the door and locked it. He turned and spoke to Illya...

"Hello little one" he smiled" I've been watching you...you know.. You are a beautiful child under all that dirt, so small ...so delicate, almost like a girl."

He placed a finger under Illya's chin, raising it up "You look very German...I am surprised they didn't send you back to Germany for the Lebensborn." He leaned forward trying to kiss Illyaon the lips, but the boy pulled away from him.

"Don't worry little one...I won't hurt you. I like you very much, I hope that you might like me too?" He cooed at softly, trying to lure the boy into relaxing.

Illya took another step back from him. " Stay away from me!" He said, shocked at his own boldness.

Voelker laughed at him."You are a brave one. What is it... your name, oh yes, Illya. Don't worry Illya,I won't hurt you..."

He came at the boy, and Illya backed up trying to escape him, but found himself now trapped in a corner. Voelker put a hand on Illya's shoulder, then with the other; he reached down and began to fondle him.

Illya remained silent, but could not control himself and he began to shake involuntarily; he no longer had the strength to resist. He tried to disassociate himself from what was happening and looked for anything he could focus his attention to. He saw a calendar on the wall...the date, it was circled 29 September, 1943. Illya had turned ten on 19 September and had not even known it.

"Seeeee..." Voelker crooned" that doesn't hurt does it? You like that don't you?" Suddenly he pulled Illya's pants down continuing to touch him."

"Please noooo, please...?"Illya whispered, begging the man to stop.

Without warning, there was a loud BANG at the door that startled Illya making him jump. A voice called out, _"KARL! Schnell! Es gibt Ärger in Lager und in der Schlucht!_ Quickly! There is trouble in the camp and the ravine!"_

"_Verdamm!_ damn!_ " Voelker cursed. He pulled up Illya's pant shoved a finger in the boy's face. "Not one word of this," he warned, "or I will send you to the vans. I will deal with you later." Voelker unlocked the door and shoved Illya outside.

Two of the barracks were on fire; there was a riot in the camp as well as down in the ravine...the remaining prisoners were fighting back at last. They had been forced over the last six weeks to burn the evidence of the Nazi crimes and they knew they would be dead as soon as they finished the work because the Red Army was on the move towards Kyiv. The Germans were being very thorough at cleaning up their messes before they left Kyiv.

In the chaos that night, a small number of prisoners escaped, and the boy Illya Kuryakin was among them.

He made his way through the city,and after days of hiding and traveling he managed to find his way back to his secret hiding place. It was still undisturbed, no one had discovered it. He hid there for a month, not leaving the safety of his hide-away except to get water.

One day he found a paper on the street with the names of the men who had escaped the camp...the Germans were calling for people to turn them in. He read them aloud one by one... S. Berlyant, I. Brodsky, D. Brudnik, E. Vilikis, I. Dolner, V. Davidov, G. Lovenko, L. Kadomsky, Y. Kaper, V. Kotlyar. V. Kulka, Y. Steyuk, Z. Trubakov, L. Kharash...his name was not on the list and that made his heart leap.

He remained hidden in fear of being captured and returned to the camp. He stretched the last of the tins of food that Anatoly had given him for as long as he could...but they simply ran out. There was nothing left. He was weak and starving and visions of the skeletal crone _Baba Yaga _now stared Illya in the face, ready to take him to his death.

He finally wandered out into the street, staggering and confused from the lack of food; his body was emaciated. Illya had felt the overwhelming need to see the sun one last time and as he looked up at the sky he collapsed, crumpling to the ground. He felt someone lift him up and carry him, but was too weak to look, nor did he care. He was ready to die.


	10. Chapter 10

He could hear noises all around him... laughter, voices, a child crying, people moving about but Illya kept his eyes shut, wondering if he was dead and what he was listening to were just echoes of his former life. "No." he told himself in his head... he knew he was not dead because he knew that he was lying in a very warm bed, covered with a very nice blanket and his head resting on a real pillow.

"Perhaps I am just a dreaming?" He thought, opening one eye and lifting his head in a feeble attempt to look at his surroundings, just to make sure he was not.

There were cots lined up in rows with other children laying in them, there were women...nurses tending to some of them. Pot-bellied stoves were positioned around the tent keeping it warm. Illya panicked for a moment thinking suddenly he was back at the camp and he tried to pull himself up from the bed.

_"Nu nu...vy nedolzhny pytat'sya sdelat' eto mi loe dity_ Now now... you must not try to do that sweet child!_" The woman's voice speaking in Russian was soft and kind and Illya felt a hand touch his shoulder, gently urging him to lay back down.

"It is good that you have opened one eye...perhaps you could open the other for me too?" The nurse smiled at him."

Illya opened the other eye and looked directly at her. She was pretty with dark brown hair and had a nice smile.

"I thought for a while that we were going to lose you," she said. " You did not move for a long time, but then you began to cry out in your sleep...you were having nightmares and you were fighting them. That is when I knew you were strong and would be all right."

She tenderly stroked his face with her hand, something he had not felt since his babushka was alive.

"You are safe now. I know you are hungry so I will be right back with some soup for you!" Her voice made his fear melt away at the sound of it.

A few minutes later she reappeared with a bowl of warm soup. She put another pillow behind Illya helping him to sit up and began to spoon the soup into his mouth a little at a time. He looked like little bird to her, just laying there with his mouth open, waiting to be fed.

Illya closed his eyes for a moment savoring the flavor of the first few mouthfuls; it was chicken soup...real chicken soup with bits of meat in it...not the watered down piss water that he had been given in the camp. He opened his eyes again and his mouth until the nurse spooned the last of it into him.

_"Bol'she pozhaluista?"_ He whispered, whispered, barely able to speak, but his eyes spoke louder than his voice.

She saw the look..."I know you want more my child, but too much too soon is not good for you. Your little belly cannot tolerate it yet, but do not worry, more will come soon. Now close your eyes and rest." She took a moment to stroke Illya's head again.

"Where am I ?" He asked.

You are in a refugee camp...soldiers found you on the streets in the western district and brought you here after the glorious Red Army liberated Kyiv. This is a hospital tent and I am called Galina... what is your name?"

"Illya."

"I am very glad you have come back to us Illya...we will make you well again. Now enough talk, it is time to rest, da?"

Illya finally closed his eyes, feeling content and safe for the first time in a very long time and fell asleep instantly.

He was given more soup again later that night and a small piece of bread softened in the broth along with it. Illya slept soundly, though they said he still cried out in his sleep, as did many of the other children there with him.

The next day a doctor came to examine him and a few of the other new children. He handled Illya very gently, not like the doctor in the camp, but Illya found himself feeling very uncomfortable at being touched by the doctor anyway, his memory of Karl Voelker still fresh in his mind.

The physician listened to his heart and lungs with a cold stethoscope. Then examined his eyes, the glands in his neck and under his arms, his ribs, arms and legs, then finally checked his reflexes. The boy was pronounced disease free and his muscles and bones were still strong. So Illya would be kept there at the infirmary to regain his strength and build his weight back up to a healthy level. Starvation had not yet injured his body.

His appetite was hardy and the staff were puzzled at how so long it took before the boy finally began to gain weight in spite of how much food he ate. Yet he finally did and enough weight to satisfy the physicians and Illya was deemed strong enough to be moved to the children's quarter within the camp.

There he was finally registered, and Illya went from being a non-existent person to a ward of the Soviet State.

Outside the main tent in that section, one of dozens that that housed hundreds of orphaned and displaced children, was a long table and as each child was transferred to the children's quarter, they were sat at it and questioned. Each child's information was taken down and put into an official registry.

Illya sat there now quietly waiting until he was spoken to.

"What is your name young man?"

"Illya,"he answered promptly.

"Do you have a last name?" The soldier asking the questions was accustomed to this already, as most of the children he had interviewed already were dazed, confused and generally afraid to say anything.

"Kuryakin...Illya Nickovich Kuryakin." he answered.

"Good...so your father's name was Nicholaí. Do you know your mother's name?"

"Da, it was Tanya, Tanya Ivanova Romanoff.

"Romanoff..? From "the" Romanoffs?" The man whispered making what he thought was a joke.

Illya shrugged, not wishing to tell the truth of his mother's lineage, as she was a very distant relation to that ill-fated royal family. It was one of the reasons his father had married her...secretly in hopes of the restoration of his own title and family name. Illya had heard his father sa the marriage to his mother added more legitimacy to his heritage, but was also warned his son not to speak of it to anyone until the day came that Russia returned to it's senses and the "old ways."

"Any brothers or sisters?" The man continued

"Yes sir, they are all dead, ny parents as well."

The man noted in the file, parents: deceased, siblings: none.

"Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts, cousins...?"

"No sir," Illya said coldly, "they are all dead."

"Date and place of birth?"

"19 September, 1933...Kyiv"

"And so how old are you...?" The man asked

Illya looked oddly at the man..had he not just told him the year of his birth? "I am ten years old sir."

The man suddenly reached out taking a hold of Illya's left arm, looking at the tattoo on his forearm.

"And what concentration camp were you in?"

"Syrets.."

"That is not possible..."The man snapped at him. " You are mistaken, no one got out of Syrets alive. They all ended up in the pit." The man shook his head then closed Illya's file, not bothering to make a note about the boy about being in a camp. "

You did well Illya Nickovich, many children do not even know their age or their family name...we are finished. Go inside and get yourself assigned a bed, Then you will be able to get rid of those rags you are dressed in and into new clothes. The soldier pinned a small red ribbon to Illya's collar to show his status as an orphan and pointed him in the direction to enter the tent behind the table.

He was taken to the back of it where a bathing area was set up; there his head was shaved again and after his tattered clothes were stripped from him, he was told to stand in a tub and was washed down with a hard bristle brush and cold soapy water.

After which, he was dried with a coarse towel and dusted with a powder for lice, handed a set of mismatched and ill-fitting clothes, clean underwear, and socks to change into. The clothes were big on him, but they were at least better than what he had worn for so long. He kept his black wool coat and his old boots though. He was then handed a blanket, a wooden bowl and lastly, he was assigned his cot.

The people in this tent were not unkind to him, though he noted they were more concerned about getting there jobs done efficiently rather than being friendly to the children. Illya looked around at the others inside the tent as he found his cot and he realized they were all exactly the same, dressed in hand-me-down clothing and alone in the world.

There was little to do in the camp and most days Illya would lay in his cot rubbing the top of his head, feeling the fuzz, missing his long hair and simply passing the time thinking. He avoided joining in the games the other children were playing outside and preferred to stay on his own. He felt that he was beyond their childish things now.

He would still sometime be woken from his sleep by the nightmares about Katiya, the camp, Irina and the many other horrors he had seen and if he was not; he was woken then by other children crying out from their own dreams.

Illya took to working out mathematical formulas in his head when he could not sleep or remembered the stories he had read in his books while hiding in his "secret place." in Kyiv. Eventually he began taking the time to tell the other children those stories, remembering them word for word as he recounted them, and that helped to pass the time for all of them. He became like Uncle Vanya telling his skazka to the children...

The time had come to finally leave the refugee camp and Illya found himself sitting in a bus along with dozens of other children on their way to the State run Moskva Orphanage where they would live and attend school. When they finally arrived after their long journey, they saw an imposing building with nine tall columns spanning across the front up to the second and third floors, and beneath along the ground floor was a series of nine small archways.

Illya noticed Moskva was very different in it's architecture...there were not many houses, only large imposing buildings, some still damaged and some now in the process of being restored.

Illya had high hopes, more than he had in a long time. Now he would be going to school, have a safe roof over his head and not have to worry about where his next meal would come from...he had survived his sorrows as Vanya had predicted and believed he had seen the end of his sufferings. But when he moved into the Orphanage it seemed to Illya it that his stoic existence was far from over as the place was a little better than the concentration camp.

The only differences were that the people in charge were not soldiers armed with guns and not trying to murder the children, but they were cold and brutal, treating them little better than animals.

The orphanage was corrupt and poorly run, and its population was rank with disease; dysentery, typhus...venereal diseases, syphilis. There were constant beatings and abuses by the staff and by some of the older children as well. The food was substandard and severely rationed for the children, but the staff seemed quite well fed. The schooling was pitiful, with teachers who did not care if their students learned or not; most of them were just there to collect their meager rubles and kopeks.

Illya, because he was still small at the age of ten found himself again the target of bullies, but not because he was a Kuryakin as he had been in school in Kyiv, now it was simply because they had chosen him to be their target and nothing more. But he was a changed boy from his school days in Kyiv and had become more clever and resilient; he would not allow himself to be bullied and had managed to avoid being beaten up more often than not.

He had perfected the art of being invisible, as well as becoming quite adept as a thief. This was one of the ways to survive,learning to be stealthy while living on the streets and sneaking into the German camp to get food from Anatoly... so now he was back to the business of "surviving" again using his skills, but in a different way than on the streets and in the concentration camp.

He watched and listened carefully like a little spy, staying one step ahead of the bigger, older children and his using his cleverness, he procured things for them and thereby kept them off his back. Eventually he won them over, helping them with their card games, getting them Cigarettes, liquor, food from the the staff larder...anything he could steal without being noticed bought him his safety. He was never caught as other children had been.

He had even managed to avoid being raped several times by becoming quite good at wielding a knife.

He drank vodka, learned to smoke, gambled at cards and had earned a nick name from the others that were once his adversaries …_"zheski malo lohi_ the tough little fucker_," and all by the ripe age of eleven.

In late 1944 it was decided the building housing the Moskva Orphanage was to be converted to the "Russian Academy of Medical Sciences and all the children were shipped out to other orphanages or to schools.

Illya was well above average intelligence and the teachers and caretakers at the orphanage took note of his many clever abilities. He was labelled as "exceptional" and was was transferred to one of the State run schools for orphaned children. There he was given a school uniform and the red neckerchief bearing the symbol of the hammer and sickle, worn by all the children. Illya discovered that his tough behaviour at the orphanage was not as necessary at his new school. The living standards and bullies still had not changed, only now there were new challenges for him to meet.

There was a small farming collective attached to the school allowing it to be somewhat self-sufficient. Most of the students worked on the farm while seeing to their studies but Illya's size excluded him from a good part of the farm work so he was sent to the kitchen to simply scrub pots, pans and dishes and do what ever "Cook" told him to do.

Illya worked quickly and diligently and Madame Vilnya took a liking to him, telling him how often he reminded her of her dead son when he was so young...smart, stubborn. She was a heavy-set woman with full rosy cheeks and who's eyes seemed to sparkle and dance when she smiled. She always wore a blue _kosynka_kerchief_ on her head like a babushka.

She gave her little helper as she called Illya, extra food...better food that was intended for the teachers, apples, eggs, chicken and more. One day Madame Vilnya watched in great wonder as the boy practically inhaled a fried egg, sandwiched between two thick slices of buttered black bread, followed by a large bowl of kashi with cream.

"How is it that you are still so skinny with such an appetite as yours Illuyshka? She laughed.

He smiled. "High metabolism I guess," he said as he munched away on another piece of brown bread with butter.

Madame Vilnya being a countrywoman did not understand what that meant... she just knew that she happy the boy was healthy and that made her smile like her Pasha used to.

The rest of the students did not fare as well as Illya...they received a daily ration of food, but it was limited mostly to porridge, bread, potatoes, turnips, and cabbage or beet borscht. Most of the products grown on the cooperative were sold at the Sate run markets, with only some of the funds returning to the support of the school...and some of it found its way into the pockets of those running the school as well. There was very rarely meat in the children's diet, and when it was present; it was mostly fat and grizzled.

Illya was being selfish for once and never let anyone else know of the food that "Cook" gave him. He always remembered to thank her for the kindness she showed him.

He remained a quiet and observant boy, keeping to himself and not making friends nor did he wish to among the other students. Anyone who had ever become close to him died...he never wanted to go through that again. It seemed to him that he was no longer meant to have anyone in his life, and decided not to tempt the fates by trying.

The teachers were strict and not beyond doling out physical punishment to students for any reason they saw fit. In the beginning Illya fell victim to their discipline, sometimes for misbehavior and sometimes for just being too intelligent.

Some of his teachers felt intimidated by such a young boy with so much knowledge. His instructors would rarely see his hand raised when questions were put to the class, but when none of the other students knew the answer to their query; they knew that if called upon, Kuryakin had the answer. The instructors used him to illustrate their points, both good and bad.

One day Illya was called up in front of his class, stripped of his shirt and whipped brutally by his teacher, in front of the other students.

"Illya Nickovich! It is not your place to challenge your teacher...this is my class, not yours!" He had innocently questioned his instructor on a mathematical solution in front of his class and now Illya would pay the price.

"Place your hands on the desk" the teacher ordered.

Illya complied leaning forward against the desk, gripping it white knuckled; steeling his jaw as the whipping began with a wide leather strap and flinching as it slashed across the skin of his back. Finally it was over...six lashes. The message was not lost on him as it was the number of steps it had taken him to solve the mathematical equation...six steps to the instructor's eight steps. Illya had shown the man up and humiliated him even though that was not his intention.

When the punishment was done the teacher announced, "See how Comrade Kuryakin takes his punishment...in silence, and by doing so he has regained some of his honor and I am sure he has learned his lesson?"

Illya nodded his acceptance of his teacher's pronouncement. He draped his shirt over his back, and was sent to the infirmary to have the wounds tended to; it was not his first visit there for such an incident.

He laid on the examination table while the doctor applied salve, none too gently to the opened welts on Illya's back.

"Sometimes boy you are too smart for your own good," the doctor mumbled. "Your mouth will be the cause of your troubles if you to do not learn to control it...you always have to make comment and have the last word. And when will you learn, you simply do not correct your teachers?"

"So am I supposed to remain silent when I know I can do something faster or better than they can?" Illya asked." Is school not supposed to be about learning?"

"Yes boy...but YOU are not the teacher and you have a bad habit of making remarks that anger people...when will you learn that Illya?"

_"Nikogda_never!_ " Illya smiled at him.

"See, that is exactly what I mean. How can such a bright boy be so stupid? The doctor said in exasperation.

"Lucky, I guess," Illya laughed.

The doctor touched a particularly nasty welt and Illya let out an "Ow!" He hated being touched by this ham-fisted doctor, or any doctor for that matter; he had few good experiences with them. The man was not going to change his way of thinking in spite of his frequent visits to the infirmary.

And so the years passed for Illya as he continued with his education; it was clear he was superior in intellect to many of his instructors even at such a young age and far beyond that of many of his fellow students. He became indifferent to his age and acted more like an adult than a child.

In the beginning of May the students, teachers and staff of Moscow School no. 7 gathered around the radio and listened as the announcer spoke with a clear calm voice...* "Eto Moskv. 8 Maya, 1945_This is Moscow, May 8 1945. The representatives of the German High Command signed in Berlin the Act of Unconditional Surrender of all German troops. The Great Patriotic war waged by the Soviet People against the Nazi invaders has been victoriously concluded. Germany has suffered a total defeat. Eternal glory to the heroes who fell in the battle for freedom and independence of our Motherland. LONG LIVE THE VICTORIOUS RED ARMY AND NAVY!"

They all erupted into a loud cheer! Some laughed, some cried, some embraced each other. It was a bitter sweet announcement for Illya; he was glad the Germans were defeated, but his family had been among those to pay the ultimate price...he wondered what, if any punishment they would receive for their crimes against the Russian people? Revelers spilled out into the streets and went on for months, but a "proper" victory parade was not held until 24 June. The students were released for the day to go to Red Square to join in the celebrations...in the pouring rain. Illya chose not go, instead he wandered through the city trying to retreat from the joyous crowds. He was too melancholy to join them.

The Soviet State would need fine young, well educated people to replace the millions killed during the war. Physicians, nurses, teachers, architects, engineers, scientists...and any number of other occupations. The Director of the school received a letter requesting information regarding any students that were classified beyond the "normal" parameters of exceptional intelligence. Illya Kuryakin's name was at the top of the list and the reply was sent.

The rest of the year continued on for him with nothing of significance happening. September passed and he turned fourteen with out any fanfare or acknowledgement, nor did he care for it to be, but several days later Illya Kuryakin received a gift that would take his life in a very unexpected direction.

He could hear noises all around him... laughter, voices, a child crying, people moving about but Illya kept his eyes shut, wondering if he was dead and what he was listening to were just echoes of his former life. "No." he told himself in his head... he knew he was not dead because he knew that he was lying in a very warm bed, covered with a very nice blanket and his head resting on a real pillow.

"Perhaps I am just a dreaming...?" he thought. He opened one eye and lifted his head in a feeble attempt to look at his surroundings just to make sure he was not.

There were cots lined up in rows with other children laying in them...there were women...nurses tending to some of them. And several pot-bellied stoves were positioned around the tent. Illya panicked for a moment thinking suddenly he was back at the camp and he tried to pull himself up from the bed.

"Nu nu...vy nedolzhny pytat'sya sdelat' eto mi loe dity_ Now now... you must not try to do that sweet child!" The woman's voice speaking in Russian was soft and kind and Illya felt a hand touch his shoulder, gently urging him to lay back down.

"It is good that you have opened one eye...perhaps you could open the other for me too?" the nurse smiled at him."

Illya opened the other eye and looked directly at her. She was pretty with dark brown hair and and had a nice smile.

"I thought for a while that we were going to lose you." she said " you did not move for a long time but then you began to cry out in your sleep...you were having nightmares and you were fighting them. That is when I knew you were strong and would be alright." the nurse stroked his face with her hand with a tenderness he had not felt since his babushka was alive. But you are safe...now, I know you are hungry so I will be right back with some soup for you!" Her voice was so soothing and made his fear melt away at the sound of it.

A few minutes later she reappeared with a bowl of warm soup. She put another pillow behind Illya helping him to sit up. Then began to spoon the soup into his mouth a little at a time. He looked like little bird to her, just laying there with his mouth open, waiting to be fed.

Illya closed his eyes for a moment savoring the flavor of the first few mouthfuls; it was chicken soup...real chicken soup with bits of meat in it...not the watered down piss water that he had been given in the camp. He opened his eyes again and his mouth until the nurse spooned the last of it into him.

"Better?" she smiled.

"Bol'she pozhaluista?" he whispered, barely able to speak but his eyes spoke louder than his voice.

She saw the look in his eyes..."I know you want more my child, but too much too soon is not good for you. Your little belly cannot tolerate it yet, but do not worry, more will come soon! Now close your eyes and rest." She took a moment to stroke Illya's head.

"Where am I ?" he asked.

You are in a refugee camp...soldiers found you on the streets in the western district and brought you here after the glorious Red Army liberated Kyiv! This is a hospital tent and I am called Galina... what is your name?"

"Illya."

"I am very glad you have come back to us Illya...we will make you well again. Now enough talk, it is time to rest, da?"

Illya finally closed his eyes, feeling content and safe for the first time in a very long time...and fell asleep instantly.

He was given more soup again later that night and a small piece of bread softened in the broth along with it. Illya then slept soundly, though they said he still cried out in his sleep, as did many of the other children there with him.

The next day a doctor came to examine him and a few of the other new children. He handled Illya very gently, not like the doctor in the camp but Illya found himself feeling very uncomfortable at being touched by the doctor any way. The physician listened to his heart and lungs with a cold stethoscope. Then examined his eyes, the glands in his neck and under his arms, his ribs, arms and legs, then finally checked his reflexes. The boy was pronounced disease free and his muscles and bones were still strong. So Illya would be kept there at the infirmary to regain his strength and build his weight back up to a healthy level. Starvation had not yet injured his body.

His appetite was hardy and the staff were puzzled at how so long before the boy finally began to gain weight in spite of how much food he could eat. Yet he finally did and enough weight to satisfy the physicians and Illya was deemed strong enough to be moved to the children's quarter within the camp.

There he was finally registered, and Illya went from being a non-existent person to a ward of the Soviet State.

Out side the main tent in that section; one of dozens that that housed hundreds of orphaned and displaced children, was a long table and as each child was transferred to the children's quarter, they were sat at it and questioned. Each child's information was taken down and put into an official registry.

Illya sat there now quietly waiting until he was spoken to.

"What is your name young man?"

"Illya.."he answered promptly.

"Do you have a last name?" The soldier asking the questions was accustomed to this already, as most of the children he had interviewed already were dazed, confused and generally afraid to say anything.

""Kuryakin...Illya Nickovich Kuryakin" he answered.

"Good...so your father's name was Nicholaí. Do you know your mother's name?"

"Da, it was Tanya, Tanya Ivanova Romanoff.

"Romanoff..? From "the" Romanoffs? the man whispered making what he thought was a joke.

"Illya just shrugged, not wishing to tell the truth of his mother's lineage, as she was a very distant relation to that ill-fated family. It was one of the reasons his father had married her...secretly in hopes of of the restoration of his own title and family name. Illya had heard his father say that the marriage to his mother added more legitimacy to his heritage...but was also warned his son not to speak of it to anyone until the day came that Russia returned to it's senses and the "old ways..."

"any brothers or sisters?" the man continued

"Yes sir, they are all dead, My parents as well."

The man noted in the file, parents: deceased, siblings: none.

"Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts, cousins...?"

"No sir," Illya said coldly "they are all dead."

"Date and place of birth?"

"19 September, 1933...Kyiv"

"And so how old are you...?" the man asked

Illya looked oddly at the man..had he not just told him the year of his birth? "I am ten years old sir"

The man suddenly reached out taking a hold of Illya's left arm, looking at the tattoo on his forearm.

"And what concentration camp were you in?"

"Syrets.."

"That is not possible..."the man snapped at him " you are mistaken, no one got out of Syrets alive! They all ended up in the pit!" The man shook his head then closed Illya's file, not bothering to make a note about the boy about being in a camp. "

You did well Illya Nickovich...many children do not even know their age or their family name...we are finished. Go inside and get yourself assigned a bed, Then you will be able to get rid of those rags you are dressed in and into new clothes. The soldier pinned a small red ribbon to Illya's collar to show his status as an orphan and pointed him in the direction to enter the tent behind the table.

He was taken to the back of the tent where a bathing area was set up, there head was shaved again and then after his tattered clothes were stripped he was told to stand in a tub and was washed down with a hard bristle brush and cold soapy water. After he was dried with a coarse towel; he was dusted with a powder for lice, handed a set of mismatched and ill-fitting clothes, clean underwear, and socks to change into. The clothes were big on him, but they were at least better than what he had worn for so long. He kept his black wool coat and his old boots though. He was then handed a blanket, a wooden bowl and then lastly assigned his cot.

The people in this tent were not unkind to him, though he noted they were more concerned about getting there jobs done efficiently rather than being friendly to the children. Illya looked around at the other children inside the tent as he found his cot and he realized they were all exactly the same, dressed in hand-me-down clothing and alone in the world.

There was little to do in the camp and most days Illya would lay in his cot rubbing the top of his head, feeling the fuzz, missing his long hair and simply passing the time thinking. He avoided joining in the games the other children were playing outside and preferred to remain on his own. He felt that he was beyond their childish things now.

He would still sometime be woken from his sleep by the nightmares about Katiya, the camp and Irina and the many other horrors he had seen and if he was not; he was woken then by other children crying out from their own dreams. He took to working out mathematical formulas in his head when he could not sleep or remembering the stories he had read in his books while hiding in his "secret place." in Kyiv. Eventually Illya began taking the time to tell the other children those stories, remembering them word for word as he recounted them, and that helped to pass the time for all of them. He became like Uncle Vanya telling his skazka to the children...

1944

The time had come to finally leave the refugee camp and Illya found himself sitting in a bus along with dozens of other children on their way to the State run Moskva Orphanage where they would live and attend school. When they finally arrived after their long journey,they saw an imposing building with nine tall columns spanning across the front up to the second and third floors, and beneath along the ground floor was a series of nine small archways. Illya noticed Moskva was very different in it's architecture...there were not many houses, only large imposing buildings, some still damaged and some now in the process of being restored.

Illya had high hopes, more than he had in a long time. Now he would be going to school, have a safe roof over his head and not have to worry about where his next meal would come from...he had survived his sorrows as Vanya had predicted and believed he had seen the end of his sufferings. But when he moved into the Orphanage it seemed to Illya it that his stoic existence was far from over as the place was a little better than the concentration camp. The only differences were that the people in charge were not soldiers armed with guns and not trying to murder the children, but they were cold and brutal, treating them little better than animals. The Orphanage was corrupt and poorly run, and it's population was rank with disease; dysentery, typhus...venereal diseases, syphilis. There were constant beatings and abuses by the staff and by some of the older children as well. The food was substandard and severely rationed for the the children, but the staff seemed quite well fed. The schooling was pitiful, with teachers who did not care if their students learned or not; most of them were just there to collect their meager rubles and kopeks.

Illya, because he was still small at the age of ten found himself again the target of bullies, but not because he was a Kuryakin as he had been in school in Kyiv, now it was simply because they had chosen him to be their target and nothing more. But he was a changed boy from his school days in Kyiv and had become more clever and resilient; he would not allow himself to be bullied and had managed to avoid being beaten up more often than not. He had perfected the art of being invisible, as well as becoming quite adept as a thief. This was one of the ways to survive in the had learned to be stealthy while living on the streets and sneaking into the German camp to get food from Anatoly... so now he was back to the business of "surviving" again using his skills...but in a different way than on the streets and in the concentration camp.

He watched and listened carefully like a little spy, staying one step ahead of the bigger, older children and his using his cleverness procured things for them and thereby kept them off his back. Eventually he won them over. Cigarettes, liquor, food from the the staff larder...anything he could steal without being noticed bought him his safety. He was never caught as other children had been.

He had even managed to avoid being raped several times by becoming quite good at wielding a knife against a much older boy. But eventually he did lose his virginity willingly, to a girl named Natalya..." He drank vodka, learned to smoke, gambled at cards and had earned a nick name from the others that were once his adversaries …"zheski malo lohi_ the tough little fucker," and all by the ripe age of eleven.

In late 1944 it was decided that building housing the The Moskva Orphanage was to be converted to the "Russian Academy of Medical Sciences and all the children were shipped out to other orphanages or to schools.

Illya was well above average intelligence and the the teachers and caretakers at the orphanage took note of his many clever abilities. He was labelled as "exceptional" and was was transferred to one of the State run schools for children. There he was given a school uniform and the red neckerchief bearing the symbol of the hammer and sickle, worn by all the Illya discovered that his tough behaviour at the orphanage was not as necessary at his new school.

There was a small farming collective attached to the school allowing it to be somewhat self-sufficient. Most of the students worked on the farm while seeing to their studies but Illya's size excluded him from a good part of the farm work so he was sent to the kitchen to simply scrub pots, pans and dishes and do what ever "Cook" told him to do. Illya worked quickly and diligently and Madame Vilnya took a liking to him, telling him how often that he reminded her of her dead son when he was so young...smart, stubborn. She was a heavy-set woman with full rosy cheeks and who's eyes seemed to sparkle and dance when she smiled. She always wore a blue kosynka_kerchief on her head like a babushka.

She gave her little helper as she called Illya, extra food...better food that was intended for the teachers...apples, eggs, chicken and more. One day Madame Vilnya watched in great wonder as the boy practically inhaled a fried egg, sandwiched between two thick slices of buttered black bread, followed by a large bowl of kashi with cream.

" How is it that you are still so skinny with such an appetite as yours Illuyshka? she laughed.

"He smiled..."high metabolism I guess." he said as he munched away on another piece of brown bread with butter.

Madame Vilnya being a countrywoman did not understand what that meant... she just knew that she happy the boy was healthy and that made her smile like her Pasha used to.

The rest of the students did not fare as well as Illya...they received a daily ration of food, but it was limited mostly to porridge, bread, potatoes, turnips, and cabbage or beet borscht. Most of the products grown on the cooperative were sold at the Sate run markets, with only some of the funds returning to the support of the school...and some of it found it's way into the pockets of those running the school as well. There was very rarely meat in the children's diet, and when it was present; it was mostly fat and grizzled.

Illya was being selfish for once and never let anyone else know of the food that "Cook" gave him. But he always remembered to thank her for the kindness she showed him.

He remained a quiet and observant boy, keeping to himself making friends nor did he wish to among the other students. Any one who had ever become close to him died...he never wanted to go through that again. It seemed to him that he was no longer meant to have anyone in his life, and decided not to tempt the fates by trying.

The teachers were strict and not beyond doling out physical punishment to students for any reason they saw fit. In the beginning Illya fell victim to their discipline, sometimes for misbehavior and sometimes for just being too intelligent. Some of his teachers felt intimidated by such a young boy with so much knowledge. His instructors would rarely see his hand raised when questions were put to the class, but when none of the other students knew the answer to their query; they knew that if called upon, Kuryakin had the answer. The instructors used him to illustrate their points, both good and bad.

One day Illya was called up in front of his class, stripped of his shirt and whipped brutally by his teacher, in front of the other students.

"Illya Nickovich! It is not your place to challenge your teacher...this is my class, not yours!" He had innocently questioned his instructor on a mathematical solution in front of his class and now Illya would pay the price.

"Place your hands on the desk" the teacher ordered.

Illya complied leaning forward against the desk, gripping it white knuckled; steeling his jaw as the whipping began with a wide leather strap and flinching as it slashed across the skin of his back. Finally it was over...six lashes. The message was not lost on him as it was the number of steps it had taken him to solve the mathematical equation...six steps to the instructor's eight steps. He had shown the man up and humiliated him even though that was not Illya's intention.

When the punishment was done the teacher announced "See how Komrade Kuryakin takes his punishment...in silence, and by doing so he has regained some of his honor and I am sure he has learned his lesson? Illya nodded his acceptance of his teacher's pronouncement. He draped his shirt over his back, then was sent to the infirmary to have the wounds tended to...it was not his first visit there for such an incident.

He lay on the examination table while the doctor applied salve, none too gently to the opened welts on Illya's back.

"Sometimes boy you are too smart for your own good!" the doctor mumbled "your mouth will be the cause of your troubles if you to do not learn to control it...you always have to make comment and have the last word! And when will you learn, you simply do not correct your teachers?"

"So am I supposed to remain silent when I know I can do something faster or better than they?" Illya asked" is school not supposed to be about learned?

"Yes boy...but YOU are not the teacher but you have a bad habit of making remarks that anger people...when will you learn that Illya?"

"Nikogda_never! " Illya smiled at him.

"See! That is exactly what I mean! How can such a bright boy be so stupid? said the doctor in exasperation.

"Lucky, I guess," Illya laughed.

The doctor touched a particularly nasty welt and Illya let out an "Ow!" He hated being touched by this ham-fisted doctor...or any doctor for that matter; he had few good experiences with them. But he was not going to change his way of thinking in spite of his frequent visits to the infirmary.

And so the years passed for Illya as he continued with his education; it was apparent that he was superior in intellect to many of his instructors even at such a young age and far beyond that of his fellow students. He became indifferent to his age and acted more like an adult than a child.

In the beginning of May the students, teachers and staff of Moscow School no. 7 gathered around the radio and listened as the announcer spoke will a clear calm voice... "_Eto Moskv. 8 Maya, 1945_This is Moscow, May 8 1945._ _The representatives of the German High Command signed in Berlin the Act of Unconditional Surrender of all German troops. The Great Patriotic war waged by the Soviet People against the Nazi invaders has been victoriously concluded. Germany has suffered a total defeat. Eternal glory to the heroes who fell in the battle for freedom and independence of our Motherland. LONG LIVE THE VICTORIOUS RED ARMY AND NAVY!"_

They all erupted into a loud cheer! Some laughed, some cried, some embraced each other. It was a bitter sweet announcement for Illya; he was glad the Germans were defeated, but his family had been among those to pay the ultimate price.

He wondered what, if any punishment the Nazis would receive for their crimes against the Russian people? Revelers spilled out into the streets and went on for months, but a "proper" victory parade was not held until 24 June. The students were released for the day to go to Red Square to join in the celebrations in the pouring rain. Illya chose not go, instead he wandered through the city trying to retreat from the joyous crowds. He was too melancholy to join them, thinking about his family.

Now that the war was over, the Soviet State would need fine young, well educated people to replace the millions who had been killed. Physicians, nurses, teachers, architects, engineers, scientists, and any number of other occupations. The Director of the school received a letter requesting information regarding any students who were classified beyond the "normal" parameters of exceptional intelligence. Illya Kuryakin's name was on that short list and the reply was sent.

The rest of the year continued on for him with nothing of significance happening. September passed and he turned fourteen without any fanfare or acknowledgement, nor did he care for there to be, but several days later Illya Kuryakin received a gift that would take his life in a very unexpected direction.


	11. Chapter 11

Nearly two years later,Capitan Viktor Karkoff of the Main Intelligence Directorate of Soviet Military Intelligence paid an unannounced visit to Moskva School no. 7 exactly at two in the afternoon on 30 September; sending the staff into a panicked frenzy as most of them had been at their midday meal and were unprepared to receive a visitor. To receive one from the GRU...they surely had to be in trouble, why else would a member of the Directorate be there?

He was shown hastily to the school Directors office and seated at the man's desk, when Dr. Granitsky came rushing in.

The man was disheveled, still tucking in his shirt tail when he realized he was not alone in his office.

"Comrade! Comrade Capitan...please forgive my rudeness at not being here to greet you! Had I but known..." said Dr. Granitsky.

"Granitsky,"grumbled Karkoff. " I have no patience for your sniveling...now get me a bottle of vodka and some food and be quick about it."

Twenty minutes later Madame Vilnya came in carrying a tray with the vodka, two glasses, caviar. buiscuits, smoked fish, and slices of fresh fruit. She smiled warily at the Capitan, bowing her head just a little as she placed the tray on Granitsky's desk after which she nervously backed out of the room.

Granitsky quickly poured a drink for the Capitan as well as for himself, and with a trembling hand, raised his glass in toast.

"_Za Vas, Tovarisch_to you, Comrade."_

Karkoff raised his glass swallowing his vodka but still said nothing. He ate, drank more vodka, then asking for the tray to be removed, he finally spoke to the professor, gesturing for him to sit.

Granitsky sat at a chair in front of his own desk, feeling very much like one of his students when called in to be lectured by him.

"You received a memo from the Politburo requesting the names of your top-ranking students..."said Karkoff.

"Yes Komrade Kapitan...I responded immediately, but that was nearly two years ago. I hope there was no problem?" Granitsky, became more nervous.

Karkoff ignored the man and continued to speak.

"I am here to interview those students which you identified as we have need of qualified candidates to function in military circles. They are all as I recall of a suitable age now. If I make any selections after interviewing them; the students will then leave with me. Others will be coming as well to conduct further interviews with the remaining students, but my selections take priority. Is that understood?"

"Yes Comrade," the professor answered, breathing a sigh of relief.

Karkoff placed a small leather satchel on the desk, opening it carefully; he removed a piece of paper containing the list of names from Moskva School

Granitsky has listed five of them and he proceeded to read them aloud: Fyodorov, Anton. Gurevich, Valery. Volkov, Grigory. Ilyukhin, Leonid. Kuryakin, Illya...I want them brought to me."

"Yes Comrade, " Granitsky answered sharply," I will have them assembled immediately!" He disappeared out of his office to quickly gather the boys and have them made presentable. Twenty minutes later the five candidates were all seated on the benches outside the Director's office, straightening their clothes, passing a comb among them to tidy their hair and just looking a bit nervous for all of them to have been summoned there in such haste.

They were told only to report immediately with no explanation, and there they waited, as one by one they were called into Dr. Granitsky's office.

"Maybe they are accusing us of cheating on our examinations?" Grigory said as he leaned, in speaking to the others in a hushed voice.

"Do not be ridiculous!" Leonid answered." We five are and have been the smartest students in the entire school, why would they think that! What do you say Kuryakin?

Illya simply shrugged and said nothing to join in the nervous chatter among the boys.

"Sush...shush! Some one is coming!" Fyodorov spat out.

"Comrade Professor, tell me your impressions of each of these students before they are brought in...and not just academically, tell me what their personalities are like, their associations among their fellow students. I want a complete picture of them socially, as well of their studies and marks," stated Karkoff. "Bring them in as they are ranked as students.

"Yes, Comrade. The first would be Anton Fyodorov, he is an amicable boy, friendly with the other students, well liked..." Granitsky began.

As the boys were brought in, questioned and dismissed each was ordered to say nothing to the others as they waited and were to return immediately to his classes. One by one they came and went silence, until Illya was the last one sitting alone on the bench.

Karkoff thumbed through Illya Kuryakin's academic file as the professor spoke about him.

"Illya Kuryakin came to us from the Moskva Orphanage just before it was converted in 1944. He was troublesome at first when he arrived, as he had learned many bad habits in there. Once he settled in to a structured academic environment he began to flourish intellectually. He is perhaps the most gifted student I have ever seen, excelling in mathematics and the sciences, he is very talented with languages as well...and his memory is phenomenal."

"What about his personality...what is he like now?" asked Karkoff

"He is not social and tends to remain solitary. He is slightly built and small for his age but can handle himself quite well. The other students do not dislike him, they seem to just tolerate his aloofness but I suspect they may resent his abilities. He does as he is told, however he is quite stubborn and has an independent streak in him that makes him speak his mind. There have been several "incidents" between himself and his teachers that have required...shall we say "corporal punishment." The boy is smart and he knows it and is unafraid to challenge his teachers in spite of the threat of disciplinary measures. He is very strong willed this one! I have tried to break him of his boldness, but without success."

"He is a member of the Komosol?" Karkoff asked.

"Yes Komrade, all my students join the Young Pioneers at the proper age. When Kuryakin turned fourteen and I saw to it that he was recommended immediately to join Komosol."

"And how is his heath?"

"He is disease free, healthy and strong in spite of the fact that he tends to be on the skinny side," the professor smiled.

"Bring him in," ordered Karkoff.

The professor opened the door and waved Illya into his office and the boy immediately stood at attention until he was told to sit in the chair offered to him in front of the desk. Illya barely glanced at the officer seated in front of him as he sat down, again remaining stiff and at attention.

"This is Comrade Capitan Viktor Karkoff of the Military Directorate, and he wishes to speak with you,"Granitsky made the introduction, and stepped off the the side.

Illya made no acknowledgement, nor did he feel he was expected to and remained silent.

"Name," Karkoff stated, using a brusk tone of voice.

"Kuryakin, Illya Nickovich, Comrade Capitan."

"Where are you from boy...tell me about your home and your parents?"

Illya was a little surprised at such a simplistic question, as he could see the Captain had his student file open in front of him on the desk.

"I was born in Kyiv of Russian parentage Comrade. We lived in a dacha outside the city. My entire family was killed during The Great Patriotic War...as were many families." He kept it brief with just enough information to satisfy the question.

"Hmmm...your name. There is something familiar about it," Karkoff said.

" Yes... there was a Count Alexander Kuryakin, the end of the 19th, early 20th century, I believe from Kyiv. Do you know of him.?" Karkoff asked carefully.

Illya was sure the man already knew the answer to that question and decided it was best not to attempt to lie to him about it.

"He was my grandfather Comrade." Illya stated flatly.

"Ah so you admit readily to your ties to the bourgeois aristocracy, but you have also renounced those ties and are a member of the the Kommunisticheskiy Soyus Molofuozhi and Komosol are you not? So you show your loyalty to the Party eh?..." Karkoff smiled.

"Da, Comrade Capitan," Illya answered, not letting his eyes drift to the man.

"And your father Nicholaí, how did he die?"

Illya's jaw tightened."My father was of member of the partisans fighting in the forest of Bykivnia. He died a glorious death defending our country against the Nazi's, as did my older brother Dimitry, Comrade."

"I did not ask you about your brother...boy!" Karkoff snapped, then quickly thumbed through Illya's file. "It says here you have no brothers and sisters."

"There must have been an oversight sir, as I had three brothers and a sister. All of whom were murdered by the Nazis." Illya answered mater-of-factly.

Karkoff could hear hatred in the boy's voice as he spoke even though Illya maintained his composure.

"Kuryakin, it is not good habit...never offer information which is not asked of you. Remember that. So I hear that you are quite a clever and gifted student. You excel in your studies far beyond your fellow class mates...how would you like to attend University and further those studies?"

Ilya's eyes widened "That would be most desirable Comrade Capitan," he answered showing no other reaction.

Karkoff let out a hearty laugh. "I thought you would say as much. If I act as your sponsor; there will be a price, boy. I will expect your full cooperation and loyalty. You will be groomed to serve your government ...can you do that Illya Nickovich?"

Illya finally faced Karkoff, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Da Comrade Capitan Karkoff...I live to serve the Soviet People," he said knowing that was what was Karkoff needed to hear.

"Yes you are the bold one..."Karkoff laughed heartily. "I will hold you to your word." Karkoff dismissed Illya, and when the boy left he turned his attention to Granitsky.

"I have made my decision...see that Kuryakin is ready to leave within the hour."

"Yes Comrade Capitan," Granitsky answered promptly." You will remember that I was the one who brought him to the Directorate's attention, will you not?"

"Of Course Comrade Doctor..."Kigaroff answered absent-mindedly, feeling nothing but disdain for the man and his groveling ways.

Illya Kuryakin left Moskva School no. 7 that afternoon seated in the back of a black sedan with Capitan Viktor Karkoff.

"You must study hard at University and do as your are told Illya Nickovich."

"Thank you Comrade Capitan. I will do my best sir," Illya answered sincerely.

"Viktor...my name is Viktor, you may call me that since I am now the closest thing to family that you have. So tell me Illya Nickovich,how did your family die? How is it that you survived?"

Illya recounted his painful memories without showing any emotion...the murder of his mother and the twins, the death of his father and Dimitry in the Nazi raid in Bykivnia. He left out details of Vanya and his gypsy connections knowing full well that having gypsy blood might threaten the offer made to him by Karkoff. Illya spoke of his babushka and of little Katiya's painful death. And lastly he spoke of his time on the streets of Kyiv and of his internment in Syrets.

"You were a prisoner in Syrets!" Viktor exclaimed. "That is a lie... no one survived the camp and only a few escaped near the end, there was no record of internment in any camp in your records!" He grabbed Illya's shirt pulling the boy toward him."Do you think me stupid boy?"

"No sir, it is the truth. Illya spoke loudly."I am not lying!" He pulled up his left sleeve, showing Karkoff the tattoo on his forearm.

Viktor recognized the code immediately and realized the boy was telling him the truth.

"I was with the group that escaped that night towards the end, there was a fire, "Illya spoke softly, "the night of the uprising in the camp on 29 September. Somehow my name never appeared on the list of those who got away...another oversight perhaps?" He smiled just a little. Karkoff released Illya, allowing him to sit back in the seat.

His choice was a good, as this one was clever.

In his brief life Illya had seen pain, suffering and death; so much so that it could have either taken away his will to live or strengthen it. He has chosen to live and now he did not know where this new life offered to him by Viktor Karkoff would take him.

At least it seemed to be the first good thing that had happened to him in so many years. He smiled again, remembering Vanya's foretelling of his future...perhaps this was finally the beginning of that future. Illya could only wait and hope that it was...

There was only silence between Viktor and the boy for the duration of the trip. Viktor took Illya into his home, bought him suitable clothing and books, and sent him to the University in Georgia back in the Ukraine. After the successful completion of his education, Illya enlisted in the Navy as part of his mandatory military service, serving a year aboard the Zulu-class nuclear submarine "Moskva".

He was recalled to begin his training as a member of the military intelligence; the price for his education and loyalty to Viktor. Illya had been promised to the _"Glavnoye Razvedyvatel' noye Upravleniye_" by Karkoff, and now he walked down a path from which there was no return. The old Russian saying rang true for Illya as he had "run from a wolf and ran into a bear"...once you were in the GRU, there was no way out but death.

For the next year, Illya's training as a recruit for the GRU was rigorous and relentless...sometimes bordering on brutal. Trainees who did not live up to the standards of their masters disappeared to die perhaps in the furnaces of Serpkov as was threatened, but no one ever knew for sure, they only saw their comrades were gone, never to be seen again.

Threats were issued on a daily basis has Illya was trained in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, explosives. He was taught to withstand pain and how to administer it. His instructors told him that everything and everyone were merely a tool to gain what ever information he needed to complete an assignment...friendship, sex, the lives of innocent bystanders meant nothing, only the mission did.

He learned to set up, pass and receive information through dead-drops, survelance techniques, to lie without being detected, to bend the truth to suit his needs and to develop and use "assets" for what ever he found necessary.

Many of Illya's abilities suited him well to the life of a spy as he was solitary, emotionless, observant...having learned his ways from his father, brother and Uncle Vanya during the days of the war well before he was recruited to the world of military intelligence.

The cruel hand that life had dealt him also gave him the strength to endure and succeed.

It was winter and his class was on yet another brutal exercise"_Dvigat'sya! Vy lenivy sobak!_move you lazy dogs! " _The trainer screamed.

" You call yourselves Russian? You are nothing but soft children...why would the Motherland want you?"

Illya and the last of the recruits in his class slogged along in the deepening snow.; stripped down to only their underwear and boots. The pace was bringing a stitch to his side, though he continued moving without complaint, taking deep breaths to relax and make the pain go away. A few of the others fell in surrender to their physical weakness and were left behind to make it back to the compound or not. No one looked back to them...

Finally the group reached the barracks and one by one they entered, dropping to the floor or to their bunks. Illya alone, stopped at the doorway, turning back for just a moment to see if their fallen comrades followed, then walked to his bunk rubbing his arms and hands to warm them. He sat down slowly, watching everything around him..

The Capitan watched the men on his closed circuit monitor, listening as they moaned and complained."That one," he said aloud to his aid."Kuryakin..he will do," pointing at the screen to the blond man.

Illya was summoned to the office of the commander. He dressed quickly, still half numb from the training exercise and arrived just a few minutes later, clicking the heels of his boots together as he snapped to attention and saluted.

"Comrade Capitan, Illya Kuryakin reporting as ordered sir!"

"Kuryakin...yes,"said the officer, rising behind his desk, holding what Illya presumed to be his personnel file. The Kapitan looked through the folder, as he spoke carefully. "High scores in marksmanship, self defense and hand-to-hand, explosives ordinance, interrogation...you have received all outstanding marks, but you are an intellectual, and I have no use for intellectuals always looking down their noses at people! Do YOU think you are superior Comrade Kuryakin?

"No sir, I have dedicated myself to serve...all that I have, all that I am, belongs to the Soviet people. I live to serve the Soviet Union. If you have found me lacking in some area Comrade, tell me and I will correct it, sir." Illya spoke impassively.

The Capitan threw the folder on the desk..."Acceptable answer Comrade, congratulations, you have passed and are now a probationary agent in the GRU."

Illya remained silent and merely raised his chin a little, showing his pride in his achievement. Viktor would be pleased.

"So what do you have to say for yourself Comrade?" The commander smiled as he place a bottle of vodka and a pair of glasses on his desk.

"_Eto bol'shaya chesti' -seer. Chesti, chtoya budu derzhat' vernyr_ It is an honor sir, and one that I will hold true to,_"Illya answered.

He swallowed the glass of vodka handed to him by the Capitan, then was dismissed. He was told he would have a few days off to settle his affairs before beginning his first assignment.

"_Spacibo Comrade Capitan_!" Illya saluted crisply and left, knowing now there was no turning back.

As his first assignment, he was sent to the closed city of Gorky, spending countless hours monitoring and recording the conversations of the numerous scientists that worked there in the city, as they toiled on secret projects for the government. It was a boring assignment...

Finally, Illya Kuryakin was given his first mission out of the country. It was to serve a dual purpose, as Viktor wished him to continue his studies, benefiting from a "western" education at the Sorbonne in Paris. Illya would study for his master's degree in physics and at the same time, spy on Russian scientists and other students attending University. This would be the first major assignment of his career.

As he sat on the plane waiting for it preparing to taxi and depart for Paris, Illya leaned on his hand staring out the window at the tarmac, when an old Russian proverb came to him...

"_Mne nuzhno ne boyus' chto moy vragi_I need not fear my enemies because the most they can do is attack me. I need not fear my friends because the most they can do is betray me. But I have much to face from people who are indifferent..._" It was the indifferent and the unknown that Illya Kuryakin faced now, and he had to be ready for it.

He had come a long way from being that frightened little boy in Kyiv...and now a new chapter in his young life was about to unfold. He was eighteen, and green, and he only hoped he would not fail in performing his duty to the Soviet Union.

FINIS


End file.
